


In The Quiet Places

by Rohirrim_Writer



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, BAMF Anna (Disney), Bermuda Triangle, Blood and Gore, EVP, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kristoff in a leather jacket, Roadtrips, Sharing a Bed, Smut in Chapter four and eight and eleven, Spirit Box, Supernatural Elements, Werewolves, ley lines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23473402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rohirrim_Writer/pseuds/Rohirrim_Writer
Summary: Growing up rich meant that Anna Arendelle never had to worry about certain things. She never had to worry about maxing out her credit card. She never had to worry about cleaning her own bathroom. And she never had to worry about Monsters. In fact, Private school didn't even teach Creature Sciences.Safety is what wealth could afford you.Anna Arendelle was never supposed to be poor.Anna Arendelle should have taken Creature Sciences.
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 53





	1. Into the Fray

**Author's Note:**

> The first Chapter is pretty graphic. I don't want to trigger anyone, so you might not want to read if that applies. If you just want Kristianna Smut, (or you want to avoid it) then look out for Chapter 4, 8, 11. 
> 
> This story is based in an Alternative Universe, it's modern fantasy, so monsters and creatures have always existed and though rare, make appearances. This includes all kinds of mythological creatures, but in this fic I mostly talk about werewolves (who are more creature than human). 
> 
> #no beta we die like men

Before the death of her parents, she went to private school, not to mention the studying her parent’s piled on her over the summers. Sheltered away behind four walls, she learned Algebra and Chemistry, English and French. They were right though, her studies only covered so much. The rich didn’t know everything, after all. Some knowledge was hard won by the poor. She had spent the last summer reading about Vietnam, something glazed over in the AP History curriculum. Her grandfather had fought as a navy bomber. She never knew him, not really, only having a few vague memories of a worn face, wrinkled cheeks pulling at a cigarette, and the assaulting smell of tobacco as he watched the skies from the porch. 

If her eyes had been closed, she might have been able to imagine that the smell of burning around her was a great cigar, smoke swirling into the empty, war-deserted sky. 

She didn’t dare close her eyes. 

* * *

“It went this way!” She yelled, desperate to keep the lash of claws from tearing at her skin again. She could feel the deep gashes and already blooming bruises whose orgins she wasn't quite sure of, underneath the pounding of her heart. It was strange, being in battle, one would think they would know what to  _ do _ . But here there was only the fight to  _ survive _ . So that’s what she did. She tried not to think too hard about how she fought alongside practically children most of the time in her profession.

“On your left!” She caught sight of swirl of blackness on her left and shot blindly, hoping she had made contact. 

She didn’t stick around to see if it worked, instead running, deeper into the parking garage. They didn’t usually choose places so  _ public _ . What kind of madness had driven them to strike during the day?

She caught sight of the first welcome sight in the process, another Hunter, quickly engaged in a one on one duel with a rabid werewolf who only seemed to be gaining ground. 

“Catch!” She screamed aiming for his left hand, her chest threatening to constrict in on itself as she fought for breath, from the running, from the smoke, from the panic. The Hunter’s hand came out to catch the pistol, and a shot rang out against the concrete walls. 

He-or she- crumpled to the ground, like a play dough sculpture slumping under its own weight. 

“Fuck.” The words passed his own lips without thought as he buried his dagger to the hilt behind the beasts eyes; downed or no there was no taking chances. Her eyes went to his as he looked up.  _ Was he alright? _ The other Hunter nodded in acknowledgement before jumping into action, they had been outnumbered since they arrived, a moment's distraction could mean the worst. 

“Is anyone up there?” He spared a moment to follow her gaze further up the ramp, it seemed eerily still, an illusion created by the pandemonium around them. 

“Yes-” She still hadn’t seen the girl. Emergency services said they had received a call from a female, age 23, trapped on the third level with her son. She found herself unable to confirm the details, before the ear-splitting scratching of nails on metal cut through.

The Hunter gave a nod Anna didn’t wait for or see, as he ran up the ramp. Anna stayed at the base covering him. It didn’t stop the attack from landing on her shoulder, a scalding pain accompanying it. 

She must have screamed, cried out, something, but it was swallowed up in the cacophony. She distracted herself from the burning sensation by burying her silver dagger in the neck of the beast towering over her and tearing it’s throat open with all her strength. She could see when it fell to the ground in front of her, where her bullet had grazed it’s shoulder. 

Fuck. This had been more than she signed up for. She responded to the radio scanner call, thinking this would be an easy job. Well lit and at 3pm. She would be able to have a well deserved night in. Monster hunting rarely came in the form of afternoon delights. 

She turned her attention to the man now. She’d seen him before hadn’t she? At the Guild? Brown-no blonde hair-yes! That was it. Big guy, blonde hair. Christian? Christopher? Kristoff! Son of bitch was cutting into her profits. She remembered him now. He’d refused to be a part of the coven raid a few months back!

Rounding the corner she found herself alone, with the dead. Time slowed and the burning in her shoulder was overshadowed by the burn of bile in her throat. Even as she continued walking, no one matched the vague mental picture she had pulled up. These had all been people getting off works, going home to their families. She continued on, quivering dagger at the ready. 

She moved with greater speed and as much caution as she could manage. She felt the familiar crackle of the supernatural, an energy in the air, followed by a growling from around the next corner. She rushed forward weapon at the ready. 

There in the hall, on his knees, she recognized Kristoff. 

“Kristoff!” Why wasn’t his gun raised? Why wasn’t he moving? Ignoring the dangers, she ran to him, shaking him violently. 

“Where’s the kid?” She followed his hazy gaze and watched in horror as a werewolf devoured the body of a woman, half obscured by the upward angle of the ramp. 

She turned back at Kristoff, her actions too frantic despite the fact she tried to portray herself as calm. It was then she saw why he was on his knees. His hands clutched a small body to his chest. Too small. And unrecognizable. When this was all over he would be the only one able to identify the remains. 

Somehow, the werewolf hadn’t bothered to take notice of them yet. She still couldn’t stop herself from whispering. 

“Kristoff,” he remained unresponsive, “Kristoff, we have to go.”

“Kristoff she’s dead, we need to get out of here.”

Unbidden, her voice rose, “Kristoff! Get up!” 

He seemed to, in part, snap out of the haze of his shock and look up at her, away from the grotesque sights and sounds coming from above. She pulled at his jacket willing him to listen, to follow. 

Gratefully, he did and they slowly made their way to an alcove in the corner of the room, the closest cover. She could feel him trembling against her, a man on the edge. She took a deep breath, tangibly feeling time ticking, running out. 

She brought her hands to his face, he was quite a bit taller than her and his frame loomed over her, but in that moment she decided she would be the pillar. She would let her strength lead them. She would get them out of there. She turned his face down toward hers, making sure their eyes locked firmly. Forcing his focus solely on her. He looked afraid, more afraid than she’d ever seen anyone look in her entire life. 

In a moment of extreme insanity, or clarity, she smiled, small though it was, and spoke softly.

“Kristoff, we’re going to get out of this.” She willed every happy memory she could think of into her gaze, into their chests pressed together, into her hands against his cheeks. 

“I need you to get your gun,” His hand audibly tightened his grip on the weapon at his side, she could feel his knuckles shift against her thigh. “Good.”

She needed a plan, but she also needed him to not be dead weight. “We’ll need to run for the stairs, draw him out. It’s two flights down. There’s plenty of back-up, we will have the advantage. We can make it.” She didn’t actually know if anyone else had shown up to respond to the emergency call yet, but the lie wasn’t going to hurt anybody...probably.

His gaze was being drawn towards the nightmare outside the alcove again. She drew him back. 

“I won’t let it get you, okay? But you can’t give up. Because we are going to come out of this. They won’t win.” She didn’t will herself to believe those words. Looking into his eyes, preparing to potentially meet their gory ends, it was the truth. She gave him one last small smile and jumped onto the exposed landing. 

She was met with a snarl and a pair of yellow eyes tracking her movements. She threw her dagger and it met its mark square in the chest of the beast as it leapt toward her, sending it careening back and against an SUV with a whine. It was the opening they needed.

Without a second glance, she began to run. She could hear the snarling behind her, the scratch of claws against concrete. 

“Kristoff!” Had he made it?  _ Let him be behind her, please. _ She looked over her shoulders to catch him slashing the werewolf with a move she’d never seen, one that left his innards spilling out on the floor as he tried to snap his jowls at their ankles. 

The exit was just in front of them and late afternoon sun poured over her skin as she stepped outside. It felt like a balm, like holy water, like confession. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. 

She expected him to be startled again, expected him to freeze as they met the chaos that awaited them. Instead he launched himself into the frey, leaving her to catch up. 

“Hey wait up!” Kristoff called over the cacophony and it reminded her of the prom, the press of caustraphobia, the shouting over the loudness of it all. There seemed to be an irony she couldn’t quite place. Was it the threat of death? The lost childhood? The arms of a man in the context of life or death? 

The thought was abandoned by the appearance, or rather turned attention, of a police officer in uniform. An ambulance was pulling up behind them, she should really let them know it was clear-

“All dead.” Maybe later, when everything was quiet, when she was alone, when she had nowhere to hide, she would feel repulsion at the callous way she spoke of the dog fight she’d left behind. 

For now there was only running, running, running, Kristoff’s hand in hers, and some unknown destination he dragged her toward. He stopped at a beat up white truck. It was parked half on the sidewalk with the keys still in the ignition. He pulled the passenger side door open and lifted her inside. Her ass plopped on the seat gracelessly. 

“Motherfu-”The word on her lips before she could stop it and she waited, waited for the neck of her target to split open and the blood to pour out, but it never came. Kristoff’s hand gripped her forearm fiercely, stopping her mid-trajectory. 

“Sven, down.” Her spell was cut off by the soothing baritone. Beside her, head popping up from behind the headrest, was a dog.

She let her dagger fall from her hand, taking large gulps of air as if she could breath the adrenaline out of her body. She’d been about to kill a dog for Christ’s sake. What was this life turning her into?

She wondered if maybe this is how he had felt when she had found him. She tried to take in her surroundings, but they were cloudy. Funny, that there should be fog on a summer day in the city.

She turned to Kristoff, he seemed clear. It occurred to her that it might just be her mind, foggy and slow. Had she even turned to him? She couldn’t remember. No, his hands were on her shoulders. He tried to meet her eyes, easier now that the height difference was made up, but she couldn’t seem to make herself return the gesture. 

Instead she watched, watched the bodies of the dead wheeled out on ambulance beds. Unbidden the image of a child lying in a corridor somewhere overtook her vision. Like flipping a switch she couldn’t breath, forgetting the feeling of her legs, her hands, the top of her nose, her vision blackening. 

Slowly, as if someone was turning up the volume on a radio, she began to hear the words being spoken, to who? To her? She looked around for the source. She came face to face with the same pillar that held her steady.

“Are you hurt? Did-” But she wasn’t listening anymore. She was thinking about where she would have been if he hadn't shown up and how many people were dead and _D_ _ ear God _ was it finally over?

“Hey, you’re okay. They’re gone.” She desperately wanted to believe it. For this hell to be over. But they never were and it never was. She didn’t know when he started being the only thing she could see clearly, it only now registered she was crying. 

“Is this your blood or theirs?” She blinked away her tears, as if it was they that kept her from hearing, rather than the invisible bubble of grief she was caught in. 

There, in the midst of everything, his hand still spanning the length of her forearm, thumb rubbing back and forth.

It was over. 


	2. The Aftermath

“She gave me this? I’m not sure what it is, but she says to put it on until we can get someone to come take care of it. You’re going to need more than peroxide and neosporin that’s for sure.” He gestured vaguely over to the ambulances that were now packing up to go. 

Anna very much doubted that it would hurt more than it did now, but putting peroxide on the long scratch down her shoulder blade might just prove her wrong. She gave him as much of a smile as she could muster. He unscrewed the cap on the balm, scooping some in his hand and proceeded to look a little lost. He had the decency to look sheepish, uncharacteristically so, as he met her eyes. 

“You’ll-ah-” he gestured to her shirt, “need to-uh…” With little preamble she moved to pull her shirt up. Not exactly the circumstances in which she’d like to be stripping for this man, but needs must. 

“ _ Fuck! _ ” As soon as her arm raised past 45 degrees she felt as though her skin would tear in two. Mortified and unmoving she silently pleaded with Kristoff. He wiped the balm on his hands onto his pants and moved around the truck. Climbing in the driver’s seat, he faced her back. 

“You’re lucky you’ve got me, I happen to be quite talented in the disrobing depart-” She had no idea what she looked like, but she could only assume  _ bad  _ the way the teasing died in his throat.

“Jesus.” She felt the word on his breath against her neck more than heard it. She slowly brought her arms back down to her sides. 

“I’m not really sure what to do.” She nodded, there was no reason for him to feel guilty because he wasn’t a trained medical provider. She just didn’t know how to make him feel better. “Your shirt’s stuck to your skin. I don’t have anything here to take care of it.” He looked like he was still seeing it, despite the fact that he was currently looking into her face. 

“Don’t pull it.” She cringed in pain that hadn’t started yet, but she knew would, and would be blinding. “Wet it first. Then,  _ slowly _ ,” this time she cringed in disgust, “peel it off. Just cut the rest.” 

She studied him hard, the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His jaw set in resolve, a furrow appeared between his brows. She thought of him in the hour before, throwing knives and refusing to leave her side. She decided to trust him. 

She expected him to make another joke, to take the pressure off the moment, but he didn’t. Actually, she didn’t know what to expect with him. 

“Where’d you get this?” He asked, his tone too light for what he was doing. She stared at her fingernails while he began to work. They were black dried blood. She wondered how the same guy about to peel the skin off her shoulder like an orange could sound so unphased. 

“I got swiped, it’s not infected, but the fucker will probably leave a scar.” She didn’t blame him. She also really didn’t want to tell him she was running after him when she was attacked from behind. 

“People got out because of you.” She still was having trouble grasping that everything-more or less-was over. She must have started at his words, at the reminder that not everyone  _ was  _ okay. 

She couldn’t bring herself to answer. Mostly because he had started to peel the cloth slowly away from the skin and every coherent thought was driven from her mind. He dumped a water bottle down her back first, carelessly tossing the crumpled remains and the lid in her foot well. 

She must have seized up because he stopped. She desperately tried to swallow the cries in her throat. He couldn’t stop every time she flinched. The sooner it was cleaned out, the better. 

“It’s okay, keep going.” The gravel in her voice said differently. With only a moment’s hesitation, not enough for her to scold, he kept on.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. If she didn’t wish he hadn’t though. She tried to think of something, anything, to distract her, but her mind was stuck in that place between pain that could be distracted from and pain that engulfed you to the point that pain was all you knew. 

Eventually it started to lessen, the blinding whiteness behind her eyes dulled and she could make out a voice talking quietly, but close, a lulling baritone.

“-used to have to use this on me all the time. She always said she gave me a bike too early, but by the time she realized it was a mistake. it was too late to take it back. I think it was a Schwinn? Who knows, she probably has it somewhere. She’s a sentimental one. But all that troublemaking paid off. I’m the best Monster Hunter this side of the San Andreas now.” She made an approximation of a scoff, that broke awkwardly against the lump in her throat and the soothing ministrations stopped briefly before resuming. 

“Sounds  _ over _ confident for someone who needed rescued.” It came through gritted teeth. She let her teeth unclench, rolling the joints of her jaw in their sockets for a moment. 

“There’s a difference between arrogance and assurance.” He intoned. She found herself laughing, but immediately regretting it as her body jostled. She blinked the fresh tears away, and ignored the obvious tear tracks down her cheeks. 

“I never said you were arrogant. That’s all you.” He chuckled, a low sound. Not quite right in this place, not with ambulance lights in the background, and the stench of blood between them. 

He shifted behind her and she realized she was gripping his leg, hard enough to leave a mark. She let go and he moved as much as the space allowed to face her, showing no sign of having noticed. 

His eyes held a certain mischief, though not devoid of the hollowness below the surface, the one she shared. But he seemed to be trying to find himself in and through it all. 

“Semantics.” 

For a moment she forgot he was attending to her wounds. She flinched away from his hand as it came to her face. He raised both arms up in mock, or perhaps real, surrender. 

“Relax, I’m not trying to come unto you. You’ve got a nasty looking gash on your face.” Apparently scowling was a mistake, if the pain and fresh blood dripping down her temple and verifying his claims was anything to go by. 

“Wow, good to know my chastity will remain intact because of my nasty face.” She didn’t mean anything by it really, it was nice, being distracted. Not thinking about the parade of faces of the dead. 

It seemed to ease Kristoff’s worries too. He went back to cleaning the wound and applying the salve. 

There was a pause for concentration, “So you’re a virgin?” 

The nerve of him! She groaned and gave him a half hearted shove against the chest.

“ _ No.” _ And it was the truth. “I was making a joke Bjorgman.” 

“You know I don’t actually know your-” Whatever he was about to say was lost to the thunderous growl of her stomach. She felt a telltale heat, creeping up her cheeks. God, it had been  _ hours _ since she’d last eaten, come to think of it, it had been  _ days _ since she’d had a good meal. 

“Sounds like a good idea.” He chuckled, a rumbling sound that originated somewhere deep in his chest, and turned the keys in the ignition. 

“Where to?” It was an innocent enough question, but Anna wasn’t quite sure how to respond. How she should respond. The idea of a meal, a real meal and not vending machine ramen made with a coffee pot in a cheap motel, sang to her like a siren. But this was Kristoff Bjorgman. Lone wolf. And kind of a dick if she’s being honest. 

Kind of hot. 

If she’s being honest.

Which is how they end up parked in In ‘n Out Parking lot with a box of four burgers between them. One’s for her, two for him, and one get handed back to Sven. 

“Merlin, Mary and Joseph  _ food _ .” Without a second thought, he dug into his burger. While she tried not to think too much about she held her sandwich with the same hands that had been handling dead bodies just hours before. Kristoff passed her the strawberry shake, his other hand already preoccupied with shoving his burger down his throat as quickly as humanly possible. 

“Thank you.” And she meant it. She didn’t know how, but she felt she owed him more than she probably did. But she didn’t know how to thank him. To thank him for giving her something to fight for outside herself, to be strong for, to have hope for. Even just for a moment. To thank him for touching her. She hadn’t known she would need it so badly. That after everything she needed to be touched, to be reminded that she was here alive and human. 

Because she knew eventually she would have to think about it all. Not just what she’d seen but what she’d done. 

She watched him now. She hadn’t looked too hard at him up until this point. She wondered if he had, looked at her, that is. Even now, her shirt hung haphazardly on her body, exposing one side of her bra and her right shoulder. 

He could have. 

But the way his shoulders hung down, heavy and tired, and his hand barely seemed to have the strength to make it to his mouth, she doubted it. He looked vulnerable in that moment. Closer to the slumped man in the corridor than the partner in crime that had charged through the fray. 

She wondered if they had committed crimes. Or were their horrors forgiven simply because they had been monsters? 

He didn’t look like a criminal. Dust and ash was falling from the gentle waves of his hair as he bent over to finish the meager meal. He looked longingly at what was left, but they both knew it wouldn’t be enough to feed them both, forget filling their bellies. 

She looked down at what remained of her own dinner. A little less than half the sandwich remained and despite the protests of her stomach she found herself reaching out to offer it to him. When he turned back to her a look of confusion scrunched his whole face up. 

“Take it. I can’t finish it. My stomach’s still in knots over my shoulder.” Desperately she prayed he would believe her. Her poker face had never been anything to brag about. His features changed into an expression of skepticism. 

“Your  _ shoulder  _ is making your  _ stomach  _ hurt?” She tried to ignore that he was making her sound fucking stupid. She gestured the sandwich toward him again. This time exasperated. She really didn’t want to admit her pain, and it really wasn’t so bad she couldn’t eat, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“It’s the pain okay?” He gave her a long wary look then. She didn’t budge. Finally he relented and with a gratitude he couldn’t hide, he accepted. It was gone between two blinks. 

She looked around, mentally cataloguing every business on the street. There was a motel up the way. She knew the chain. It would be more for a night than she could really afford, but she didn’t have the energy to wait around and catch a bus. 

She shivered at the idea of riding the bus all night, riding to the end of the line, and repeating it again until they stopped running. Last time she’d gotten her backpack stolen and she’d had to get all new gear. Silver didn’t come cheap. 

At the thought of a hot shower and shitty, cable TV, exhaustion pulled at her eyelids. Her attention again returned to Bjorgman. She wondered what he would do. Would he leave? He seemed tired, but uninjured. He could. It made her feel incredibly lonely, imaging him vanishing into thin air, leaving her abandoned in the parking lot. Still, there was nothing she could do about it. Reaching for her backpack, she sighed, trying to find her dropped silver dagger and pistol she’d thrown him. In the end, she gave up. Given her improving skills at sleeping anywhere, and the subject material, she might as well steal a few minutes sleep here. She enjoyed a moment of pity before debating how to sleep to keep off her shoulder. 

In the process she looked up to find Bjorgman-Kristoff-watching her. 

“You know usually I get a girl’s name before taking her to dinner.” Any attempt at appearing suave was destroyed by the massive yawn that interrupted him halfway through. 

“It’s Anna.” So sleeping in the car was out. Unless… “You gotta shower?” 

Turns out Kristoff had a house. It was surrounded by a chain link fence with a driveway and a little carport. It was small and old, but all the siding was straight. None of the paint was peeling. A metal rocking chair sat by the front door and it reminded Anna of old lady’s in house dresses. 

Sven ran ahead when he opened up the front door. A worn leather couch, two cushions wide faced a TV so old antenna stuck out the top. Kristoff kept walking, passing a kitchen off to the right in favor of the one bedroom. She had to wait for him to move out of the doorframe to see around him and for a brief second she rethought her plan. 

She had gone home with a very large and very strange man. Retrospective stranger danger aside, she did have a gun. 

“Bathroom’s through there.” He pointed to a door on the left. “The handle pulls out to turn on the shower. And cold and hot are reversed. So turn it to the picture of the snowflake.”

“Snowflake. Got it.” She’d washed her pits in a Burger King bathroom before, so she figured she could manage it fine, but she kept that to herself. 

“Come on, Sven.” And she was alone. 

Closing the tiny bathroom door behind her, she got to work peeling off her crusty clothes, piling them in tub. The shirt she tossed in the tiny, garbage pail. 

She pulled the shower knob out and turned it to the snowflake and stepped in. The water warmed up surprisingly fast, steam billowing up over the curtain. First she set to cleaning off the pants and underthings in the basin with the bar of soap. It smelled masculine and warm, but it did very little to remove the stains. 

When it was as good as it could get she washed herself off, standing under the stream until the water ran clear. 

She dug a change of clothes out of her backpack and hung the old ones over the shower curtain to dry. 

Moving as quietly as possible, she opened the bathroom door and moved to the bed, backpack in hand. She pulled back the neatly folded sheets, _ Jesus, the guy did hospital corners _ , and slipped between them. Instead of a pillow, she tucked her backpack under her head. That was comfortable….enough to sleep. She looked longingly at one of the pillows. It’d be nice to sleep with a pillow she knew wouldn’t give her bedbugs. 

Her shoulder couldn’t be slept on, so she had to turn her body a bit, adjust more of her weight to her left side.  _ There we go _ . Kristoff stood, sentinel in the doorway, watching her. 

She paused her fussing and waited, not quite sure what for. He didn’t move to leave. He didn’t move to speak either. He seemed, for the first time since their initial encounter, well and truly lost. 

Moving over slowly, sliding across the matress that was a pathetic excuse for a sleeping arrangement for two people, she made room for him. Then, pulling the blanket up in an offering, she watched as he moved to the bedside, fell to his knees slowly, and crawled up until he was stretched out thoroughly beside her. She dropped the blanket over his body and lay back, hand clutching tight at her backpack. Resting on her side, using her arm as an inadequate pillow, the position forced her to face him. 

She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were in the dark that now surrounded them, but it was comforting, being able to look in them and see the same uncertainty and relief that she felt. He mirrored her position for a long string of moments, until with a bit of shuffling, he offered her his only spare pillow.. 

“If you try to steal any of my gear while I sleep buddy-” She’d what? The guy was a mountain troll. He hushed her with a sort of shushed half chuckle. 

“I’m ever the romantic.” She snorted, but accepted his offering, grateful she wouldn’t wake to pins and needles in her arm on top of everything else. They fell into silence then, she couldn’t really think of a reply and her tongue felt heavy enough to slur her speech with sleep. She did however, continue to watch him. The stars, in the absence of all other light besides the moon, allowed her to make out the faintest of details in the dark. She traced them with her mind. His freckles on his nose, the faint bow of his lips, the square outline of his jaw, the way his hair curled around his ear. 

The last thing she remembered was how his skin seemed to change color with each flicker of the passing cars, from silver to gold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter I had to really add new writing to so that it would work and flow. I probably should have slept more before posting it, or you know, read it once at all before posting but this whole thing is pretty self indulgent so idc.


	3. The Waking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Hozier

A shiver is what woke her up. Her blanket had come away from her back by only an inch, letting a chill down her exposed back. She curled deeper into the warmth that was decidedly away from that side of the bed. And warmer it was. Warm. And Safe. And Comforting. Besides that her body was doing a fucking good job of telling her it was decidely not ready to get up yet. In fact, it felt like she had taken an ambien an hour ago and her alarm had gone off while it was in full effect. 

She couldn’t keep the morning out unfortunately and she became aware of voices around her, not to mention light streaming right in her fucking face. 

She had already thought the word fuck twice, (three?) times since she woke up. There was no avoiding it, today was going to be-fucking-awful. Three. She wondered if she could skip her morning check out. 

_ God _ .

Who was making that much noise in the morning?. 

“Would you shut the fuck up?” She grumbled with eyes still closed. There was sweet, momentary silence, but then something much more disturbing followed. Chuckling. Manly, deep throated, gruff, sleepy chuckling. Coming from her pillow. 

Ever so slowly, she raised her head up, opening her eyes one by one. To come face to face with one Kristoff Bjorgman. 

“Love, you just told my dog to what-?” His eyes sparkled, lidded with sleep though they were. Her hands were currently holding herself perched on his chest. And her leg was currently strung over his, trying to ride him like a bicycle. 

“Um- ‘Shut the fuck up’?” It was little more than a disbelieving breath, but enough to cause another one of those chuckles. One of those chuckles she felt rumble through her entire body. 

The delicious feeling of it was overshadowed by the dawning of reality. He could freely watch the emotions play out on her face, the fear, the remembering, the sorrow, the pain. There was little she could do to stop it. She felt her lip quiver as the images came to her mind, unbidden. 

She was brought back to reality by a large, solid pressure against her skin. He had brought his hand to her cheek to steady her. She didn’t know how he managed it, felt guilty he felt the need to, but he smiled. It felt like it was just for her. She supposed it was. 

“Hey.” It brought her back to reality, to those eyes looking back at her, pulling her into the present. She searched them for something. Confirmation? Absolution? Fear? That maybe she wasn’t alone in this feeling of being unmoored? 

But instead she found something familiar, the same comfort and safety she found herself in between wakefulness and sleep. 

“Hey.” It wasn’t quite as convincing as his, maybe tinged with panic, but it made his smile reach his eyes more. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s going to take it personally.” He chuckled again and she was embarrassed to find just how delicious those bodily vibrations were without distraction, his eyes locked on hers. She felt her cheeks heat, but before she could answer her stomach made a sound that was decidedly  _ not _ delicious. Slowly his expression changed from one of contentment to one of annoyance. She retracted further from him in the bed, but he sat up, following her. 

“You told me you weren’t hungry.” The way he stressed the words wasn’t a good sign and the sleep still clinging to her mind wasn’t a good sign for her ability to bluff. 

“I wasn’t hungry  _ then. _ I’m hungry  _ now  _ because it’s breakfast.” She tried not to meet his gaze instead fiddling with her shirt.

“You’re  _ lying. _ ” He said it with no real malice, but a determination fitting his lionish tendencies. She sighed and threw her hands up, giving up on both him and her shirt. 

“Of course I was lying! To be honest, I didn’t think you’d buy it the first time. But you’re twice my size and probably need about a thousand calories more and you were exhausted. What was I supposed to do?” She refused to back down from the staring contest they had unwittingly begun. 

“You were supposed to eat the fucking sandwich!” She wanted to scream, but instead something akin to a growl came out instead. 

“Well, what’s done is done! You can’t take it back now and we both got what we want. Are you seriously going to throw a fit over a corner of a sandwich?” She was starting to realize how ill prepared for an argument she was. Her head hurt horribly, and scowling was making it worse. On top of it she was feeling a little nauseous. Scratch that, a lot nauseous. 

“I’m not throwing a fit. I’m upset that you lie-” She clenched her jaw desperately fighting the roiling waves inside her. She breathed deeply through her nose. Yes, there we go. All good. 

And then she sprinted for the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. It was watery and mostly bile, but it was still disgusting, coating her mouth and assaulting her nose. She was vaguely aware of him having followed her, pushing a curious Sven out of the way. 

“Fuck.” The word was a bullet from his lips and she was too embarrassed to look up and see his face. She could already feel tears leaking out of her eyes. If only her damn headache would ease off just a little. She could barely see. 

“You made your point. It would have gone to waste had you eaten it.” It was a joke, she knew this, but his tone was somber. Concerned. She wanted to tell him off, tell him anything, ask for help, but she could only breath in slow and controlled, letting out long exhales. 

At this point she vaguely registered he was gone.She blinked through the black and white spottiness of her vision, searching him out. Would he be coming back? Was he disgusted? Was this it? The end of their unlikely friendship of circumstances? . 

“You’ve probably got a concussion. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re extremely dehydrated too. Take these.” He passed her two white pills, Tylenol he guessed, and a full glass of water. She rinsed her mouth first and then took them both in one swallow. 

“Drink that and try to get some more sleep. I’ll get started on some breakfast.”

He looked unsure about leaving her alone. If she could have opened her mouth without vomiting again she would have asked him to stay. She knew this. She wanted him to stay and sit next to her, maybe stroke her hair. So she said nothing. Kristoff was right, if there was food they both needed it. And she wasn’t going anywhere or doing anything until the Tylenol kicked in. On a more superficial note, she hadn’t cleaned her mouth yet and though her mess was flushed away, she’s sure the smell lingered. 

“Just go, Kristoff. I’ll be fine. And take Sven out, he’s going nuts.” She made out a grin from the sliver she could bring herself to open her eyes and against the glaring light. 

“Yes, ma’am.” A feeble acknowledgement though it was. Her throat has apparently decided that the only way to keep the nothing-in-her-stomach down was to clamp down. She guessed it was the last she’d manage to say for now. 

“I’ll be back.” She ignored the way the words made her heart jump. Like a rubber band being released she relaxed and began the wait. 

“Anna, foods ready. Do you think you can eat something?” She was being lightly jostled awake to her complete and utter dismay. The pain had started to ebb and she found her appetite and had returned. 

Good thing too because Kristoff had made pancakes with syrup and scrambled eggs and bacon and- _ God _ -she was drooling wasn’t she? She could feel the tangles in her hair and the crust around her eyes but she ignored it in favor of scarfing down her meal. Not bothering to say a thanks until she lay, stomach full and appetite sated for the time being, stretched out beside him. 

“That was  _ amazing _ .” She sighed. 

“I mean it was just from a box mix…” He ran a hand through his overgrown hair, the blonde fluffy locks falling back in its wake in slight disarray. 

“You should take a shower.” The words tumbled from her lips before she had a chance to stop them. She couldn’t really take them back now and besides, he should. He had streaks of dirt-and maybe blood-on his skin. Not to mention the uh- _ funk- _ she caught a whiff of when he raised his arm. 

“Hey!” He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, but at this point she’d seen him really angry and she knew this wasn’t it. 

“I’m just saying, that smell is a little outside of nature’s laws.” He laughed and she joined him. 

“You’re not looking so hot yourself, princess.” Anna huffed and threw her legs over the side of the bed. 

“Fine, I’m brushing my teeth before you get in.” She grabbed her backpack and headed for the bathroom. She had the brush in her foaming mouth when Kristoff reappeared. 

“I set up my laptop on the table if you needed it. Phone’s there too.” 

Did she have people she needed to tell? Her parents were both dead and Elsa, well she didn’t even know where Elsa  _ was.  _

So, no? Maybe send an email to the Guild? Check her bank account and make sure the money for the job came through? See how much Kristoff’s interference had eaten into her cut. But then what. She needed to hole up for a day or two and get her strength back before taking anymore bounties or turning on the scanner she kept in her backpack. 

Kristoff probably had people. The very existence of pictures along the walls, hand knit blanket at the foot of the bed, a pile of mail on the kitchen counter, spoke to  _ family _ . It all ran very contrary to the image he projected. The leather jacket, the beat up pick up that growled something fierce, the dog that was practically a small horse. 

She suddenly was face to face with the reality of the situation. This was Kristoff Bjorgman, the man who had been rumoured to have single-handedly killed a Strigoi. Not to mention the rumors that circulated about his er- _ prowess _ . 

She didn’t hold his lack of interest in her against him. (She tried not to think to hard about why it  _ bothered  _ her at all in the first place.) Hans had always said she was that completely ordinary. Besides, she highly doubted the rumours were all true. They were exaggerated in the very least. No man was that... _ philanthropic. _

This Kristoff was thoughtful, though a little crass. He was funny in the darkest of times and she found that she really didn’t give a rat’s ass about his reputation. She wanted to be his friend. 

And if the way her stomach had been flipping this morning was anything to go by, she was in trouble-stomach flipping quite unrelated to concussions. 

Looking up into his hopeful face, his eagerness to please, she decided that yes, they could be friends. 

“Sounds good.” And his face broke out into a smile so brilliant the fucking sun was embarrassed. 


	4. The Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I brink you 4k of tragic backstory and porn. Bone Apple Tea.

She crawled onto the bed that night exhausted. She had carried a tiredness with her all day despite spending half of it in bed. She was looking forward to sleeping without being woken up seemingly every time she drifted off. 

She kept waiting for other shoe to drop, for Kristoff to ask her to leave, but he never did. She wondered for the first time, why he was even here. Why live alone if he had all the family smiling at her from their frames on the walls. Why hunt monsters if you had so much to lose? Rather than blurting the question out, she turned back to the TV, flipping channels and looking for news coverage on the prior day.

By the time he was finished they were already on their way to get lunch and after that it seemed there was always something to do next. 

She forgot the mystery until now. In the fading evening light, as they came inside from walking Sven, the thought returned to her. Kristoff was sitting on the edge of his bed (which he had remade that morning, a concept foreign to Anna) taking off his shoes. 

“How did you become a Hunter?” The question came out with little forethought, or she might have been more careful with her wording. Kristoff stilled, his bare feet coming to rest against the carpet, where his gaze could have born a hole.

“My family was killed by a monster. Same as most people who end up with a vendetta against them.” Anna felt a twinge of anger. She didn’t just fight monsters because she had a vendetta against them. There were spirits that needed to be released, lives that need to be saved-human lives. He was right, actually.

“It was a Crocotta. Some fucked up person with too much money had tried to keep one as a pet or something.” He let out a breath and his heavy frame seemed to heave with it. “It killed them. It used my voice to lure them away. I screamed for them, but-” He brought a hand to his forehead now and rubbed the tension out there before running it through his hair. “It mimicked my screams, too. The pictures one the walls? Those are of my adopted family. They took me in when I was seven.”

“I did nothing. I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. I couldn’t just do nothing anymore you know? And when I got here...” He grew increasingly distant. “I thought it would be different. That there would be, I don’t know, a bureau or something. But instead it’s just fucking _ kids  _ and vigilantes.” 

She didn't want to reach out to him just yet, scared of where he had gone, of him thinking that place was real. So she quietly shuffled toward him instead. When they sat knee to knee, she reached out her hand into the space between them and laid it palm side up, waiting for him to take it. She counted ten breaths before he took her hand, resting them on the top of his thigh. 

She thought about telling him about the months in hiding after her parents died, about the years alone after her sister had gone missing and so had their money. Thought about telling him how Hans had left her on the sidewalk, in the rain, like some kind of fucking Lifetime movie.

She thought about telling him she forgave him, for what she wasn’t quite sure. Instead they sat, until the last of the light left the sky and exhaustion caused them to slump into one another. 

“I need help with my back.” She broke the tendrils of silence, before they both got too tired and forgot. Or intentionally forewent the treatment for sleep. Kristoff’s thumb briefly trailed across her hand before letting it slip away as she turned to reach for the tube of antibiotic ointment. 

The feeling in the room remained almost reverent as she peeled off the shirt, holding her breath as she did so, aware of Kristoff’s every move despite not being able to see him. The faint light of the street lights outside casting golden tones across their meager surroundings. She remembered how his skin had looked in the starlight, wondering if her skin would look that beautiful. 

It took longer than she anticipated for his fingers to brush her skin. He applied the salve with a firm pressure, a type of surety that came from experience. Whether that experience lay in his years of patching up his own wounds or with women remained to be seen. Which ever it was, it felt nice, and she let herself push back into the sensation. His hands worked for longer than they had last time, perhaps it was the privacy they were currently afforded. It also gave the action a very different feeling and when his hand strayed a little close to the nape of her neck. If she let out a hitched sigh, who would be around to hear it? 

He pulled away after that. She wished she could pull her shirt on right then, but the salve needed to dry a little or it would stick. 

She could hear the rustle of fabric as he changed his clothes behind her back. His touch had left her skin humming and she tried to ignore it when she finally pulled on the shirt Kristoff had lent her to sleep in. She tugged at the neckline to try and keep it from sliding forward to expose the skin below her collarbones. 

She turned and followed on already tucked in Kristoff under the covers. He seemed unphased by their previous contact and she tried to be as well. Just a monster hunter helping out another monster hunter...who happened to be desperately touch starved and hopelessly attracted to the way his biceps always seemed to strain against whatever shirt he was wearing. 

When she lay down, back to him, his hand snaked out to skim along her back. 

“What are you doing!?” It was more accusation than question and she had flipped around at lightning speed. He however, seemed amused. 

“You sleep in a bra?” Her face blazed in indignation and she tried to move as far away from him as possible. His arm, still stretched across the space between them, rested on her waist, holding her in place without any real force. 

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Her nose twitched as she tried to maintain control over her irritation. In the dim light she could spot his teasing smirk. 

“No,  _ normally _ I don’t wear one, but I’m trying to preserve my modesty from the  _ lecher _ I’m sharing a bed with.” She lightly pushed him away with her foot, but with no results, He was a bloody troll of a human. His grin broke out in full force. 

“Oh of course, your precious  _ chastity _ .” He teased and even in the dark she could see his eyes sparking. She did laugh then, despite her momentary embarrassment. When it died down she came to the realization that his hand was still on her waist.

_ Huh. _

His thumb was dragging back and forth against the airy cotton, a soothing kind of gesture that drew them into a silence and stillness that contradicted the building tension in her belly. 

It was then, as she met his eyes that she realized it was an invitation, and after several minutes passed in deep thought, under his unwavering gaze, she gave her answer. 

“Then take it off.” She commanded.

And his hand was slipping under her shirt, slow and controlled. It spanned most of her waist and then slid, with too firm a pressure to tease, across her stomach and to the underside of her breast. He briefly thumbed over her nipple while he cupped the underside, seeming to accustom himself to the fit of it in his hand. 

It was nothing to take the breath away, just a lazy kind of exploration, even as his hand slipped behind her, molding to her body all along the way to seamlessly unclasp the band. His hands could now freely slip up and under and make direct contact with the bare skin of her breast. This time when he thumbed over her nipple it sent a thrill down her spine. 

She stayed in place, waiting. She wasn’t sure how far he would take this exploration. She knew how far she wanted to take it. Afraid of what nightmares she would see in her sleep and her broken body aching for comfort, she wanted to be touched. She wanted to forget. So when his hand moved to pull her shirt off she let him pull it up and over, her bra going with it. 

In the dark he watched her, still on his side, but leaning toward her so that he was almost above her. She wondered then if he would kiss her. She watched him, waiting, wondering, his lips glistening wet in the low lighting. Instead his hand explored every inch of her exposed skin, with that same, solid, pressure. Starting at her diaphragm, feeling each steady breath in and out, up and down, before sliding up, till his palm and fingers had felt every inch of her breasts. Continuing up to her collarbones, he categorized every freckle, every blemish. 

It was grounding. She felt, to a degree she never had before, that she was being appreciated. There was a strange vulnerability to his actions, more so than the crudest acts of sex she had partaken in. 

Her arm furthest from him, that wasn’t nearly trapped by their bodies was studiously addressed with the same attention as everywhere else, even lifted to rest beside her ear so his hands could run along the underside, thumb swiping along her armpit to elicit a shiver.

She took the time to consider him, watched as the corded muscles of his forearm twisted under the skin. Memorized the way the fine, but thick dusting of hair on his arm looked like against her body. She watched his chest, the way he would pause ever so slightly and his breathing would change when he found a part of her body he particularly liked.

The contact broke, for a fleeting instant as he brought his hand to her cheek and she wondered how she could learn to miss a touch so much in such a tiny amount of time. She watched the way the tendons of his neck flexed and relaxed and his adam's apple moved, traced his shoulders against the moonlit ceiling. Made the mistake of looking directly into his eyes.

For the first time since he touched her, she was short of breath. She wanted him to go back to his careful cataloguing of my body, but his hand still rested on her cheek unmoving. His resolute gaze a question she understood despite the whispered words. 

_ “Will you let me do this? _ ”

She knew he intended to continue his strange ritual. Some part of her thought she would have rather ran through the street naked. Having his hands on her bare breast was somehow easier than this, less of the strange intimacy circling around them in the quiet. 

She couldn’t meet the intensity of his gaze but still, she couldn’t look away. She could still see his hand, moving, memorizing against her belly and now he wanted to give that same devotion to her face. Mustering every ounce of bravery in her body she nodded. 

“Yes.” Her eyes closing even as she said it, not able to bear the look in his eyes. Not able to be  _ desired  _ like that. The kind of desire that could consume her. That could ruin her. 

His hand moved then, more carefully than before, but still not delicately. She was lost there, in this place where his fingers brushed along her forehead, mapping her hair line, the slight widow’s peak that most people missed entirely. Along the bridge of her nose and her eyebrows, the lids of her eyes, her lash line from tear duct to corner and down her cheekbones.

Discovering and cataloguing what she had spent twenty-one years being critical of. She knew when he stopped on her right cheek he was looking at the mole hidden in the shadow of her jaw. Or the freckle that overlapped just so with the start of the cupid’s bow of her lip. Knew the exact moment he discovered the tiny scar on her cheekbone.

She felt utterly exposed with nowhere to hide. 

This was nothing like she had expected sex with Kristoff Bjorgman to be. She also knew the sordid tales she had heard were  _ lies _ . 

His fingers trailed over her lips and she felt more than heard herself sob. It was something from deep in her chest and she wished to God she could pull the sheets over her face. Except she didn’t wish that at all. 

Instead she opened up her eyes and there was Kristoff, not looking at her body, or her lips, but at  _ her,  _ waiting patiently for her to open up to him. Apparently someone can look both patient and reverent and hungry and yearning. 

He looked  _ enraptured. _

That sound came from her throat again. The one she’d never heard before but she was pretty sure was begging. And with her eyes finally open, forced to confront her own exhibition, he leaned down to kiss her. His body moving over hers and she thought, while she still could, he moved with the grace of a lion. Her eyes fluttered shut once again. 

And then she was done thinking.

His lips were intoxicating. She breathed through her nose, from his mouth, anything to keep the connection, going light headed before she would break away. Even in this, she could feel him learning her. Again and again he drew sounds from deep inside her. A delicious moan when he suckled her tongue, a soft hum when he slowed into almost chaste kisses, a guttural groan when he bit her lower lip, but what he seemed to like the best and use the most sparingly was to run his tongue along the roof of her mouth. It had been unexpected, the way her eyes rolled back in her head and she shivered, her breaths little staccatos, and the fluttering deep inside. 

She noticed, somewhere in the back of her useless brain that when she did he would breath in deeply, unconsciously swelling his chest with pride. She laughed to herself against his mouth, such a fucking  _ lion.  _ The laughter seemed to break her free from her early timidity and she threw herself into necking with unabashed enjoyment.

His hands rested on either hip, holding her in place as he thoroughly kissed her, his mouth however, had begun to wander from hers. Again it struck her that sex with Kristoff was very much having sex with a man, even if he was only a few years older than her. And how for the first time in forever, she felt so much like a woman. 

He placed open mouth kisses against the underside of her jaw and she found herself gasping for air, floundering for purchase, hands gripping tightly to the sheets as her head craned so far to the side she thought she would strain something. He moaned and hummed against the spot and her body quaked in response. 

Maybe she  _ hadn’t  _ had sex before this. Because this was something else entirely. There was no rehearsing for this, no sucking in bellies and coy smiles. Although Kristoff had a very self satisfied look on his face as he made his way down to her breasts, sucking hard enough on her collarbone to cause her to cry out and purple to bloom to the surface. 

And then for the first time since his hands slipped under her shirt she spoke. 

“Kristoff.” It was a plea. A prayer. A confession. And he reveled in it, head falling forward with a groan. “I need to touch you.”

The temple of arousal around them seemed to swell. Raising himself up he lifted his shirt over his head and leaned down to meet her heavy-lidded gaze, noses brushing, and gave her a chaste, lingering kiss before lowering himself down, disappearing from her sight. It was not nearly enough time for her to take in the image of him, bare chested and fucking regal.

Her hand found itself winding into his hair as he brought his lips to her breasts. With a ghosts touch that contrasted his earlier ministrations he traced the swell of her breast toward her sternum. Then, when he was nestled there, he bit into the underside of her breast. Her grip tightened on his hair as he began to devour her. 

She lost herself to the sensations then. The fog of pleasure was disturbed some time later by the waistband of her pants being brushed. She blinked hard, once, twice, trying to chase the haze away long enough to think straight. He seemed to sense her uncertainty and paused. He looked up at her then, waiting, no reproach in his gaze. 

“May I?” His hand brushed over the front of her pants.

He waited until she caught her breath making no move to touch her again until she answered, “ _ Okay. _ ” He pulled both of her legs then in an unadorned movement. With the cold air free to caress her most intimate places she realized just how wet she was. She unwittingly rubbed her legs together as she adjusted herself. 

She saw white.

Kristoff gazed down at her naked form and she seized the chance to look him over. His chest was untamed, he had too much chest hair for it not to be. His chest hair should have made him seem rugged, and she’s not going to lie to herself and pretend it doesn’t, but it also looks soft. Inviting. The idea of Kristoff in front of the bathroom meticulously grooming his chest, brought a smile to her lips. She couldn’t help the full out grin as she followed the trial southward, to where it was framed by taunt muscles. She  _ might  _ have felt insecure if she hadn’t looked up at his face. He was looking down with the eyes of a lost puppy as she grinned crookedly back. 

“What?” He obviously wanted in on the joke. She shook her head trying to put him off it, finding herself laughing. This only served to make it worse. 

“No really, what!” He rose up taller as he sat back on his heels, waiting for her answer. He looked thoroughly stumped and it had her laughing harder than she had in weeks, months. Not hysterically, but real honest to god laughter. He looked boyish now, a lopsided grin as he waited for her to catch a break. 

“You’re just so unfairly handsome!” She said between breaths, coming down. And it was true. He was. He seemed perplexed by this answer like he couldn’t quite make sense of her reaction versus her answer. 

“Haven’t you ever made a girl laugh during sex before?” It was light teasing, but when she saw his face she realized he hadn’t. He was looking at her like she had done something wonderful. 

She didn’t know why, but it made her laugh again. Then he was grinning that crooked, boyish grin and kissing her like she tasted like chocolate between their laughing. 

She felt incandescent. 

Amid kisses and whispers and baritone chuckles his clothed erection brushed against her clit. And she was still wet. Very wet. 

Her whole body jolted and every ounce of oxygen in her lungs let out in one long breath. And then they were rutting teenagers, rubbing against each other with sensual thrusts. She came that way, a delicious, bubbly kind of orgasm. One that made Kristoff kiss the sweat from her brow and whisper that she was  _ fantastic _ . 

Before she had even come down from her high, he had shucked his pants, kneeling before her completely naked and fucking perfect. She had just decided that yes, she definitely was going to at least try to fit him in her mouth. Yes, she was definitely going to do it, he leaned down, spread her open and  _ ate _ . 

One rumour had been true. Kristoff Bjorgman loved using his mouth. He ate her out to the edge of orgasm so quickly she thought she would drown, gasping and shocked as he brought her down. Only to start again, slower, more deliberate and disciplined this time. He fucked her with his tongue, and his fingers, until she was past seeing stars. She was seeing fucking galaxies. 

She never thought she would be a screamer but when she came for the second time his name sounded suspiciously like a scream if she’d had more breath to make it a little louder. 

Looking very self satisfied he surfaced, breathing heavy and hard. He still looked  _ hungry,  _ even with his mouth, chin, and nose,  _ glistening  _ with her. 

“Kristoff.” It fed the fire. “Fuck me.  _ Please. _ ” And he did. 

He probably could have made her come undone with his dick halfway in. But when he sank down to the hilt, it was like he breathed into her and  _ sung. _ When he pulled out she clung to him and when he plunged back in she welcomed him, revelling in the hum building within her again. She came again, but that hum stayed. 

One summer in high school, the neighbor girl had been smoking on her roof. Anna had hopped the fence and scaled their tree to join her. She’d taken two short, and one long pull from the joint rolled in a page from the bible, enough to get her high as a kite. She stayed there until long after the neighbor girl had gone inside, watching the sky until the last of it had worn off and all that remained was the saccharine smell of smoke in her clothes. 

She felt a lot like she was on that roof, watching airplanes and birds and clouds pass by. 

He came inside of her, but not before asking. She’s on the pill so it doesn’t matter, still he asked. It didn’t surprise her so much this time, him being more than decent. 

“I want to come inside you, but I won’t be won’t be turned off, no  _ upset _ , if you say no.” Despite how close he was he had stopped, waiting for her answer before moving again. His hand ran up her body to cup her breast then. “Nothing about you could turn me off.” He said it with that wonderful chuckle, with his dick still throbbing inside her. She reached around him to pull his ass toward her, driving him deeper. 

“Inside, please.” Maybe he said it to all the girls, but she didn’t care. He was saying it to  _ her. _

He came with one hand around her breast, one cradling her head buried in her hair, and his sigh groaned into her mouth. 

He stayed there for a minute, kissing her. Not for sexual pleasure, but for the slick slide of it. The closeness it afforded. It was careless and lazy and he pulled himself out halfway through, but it was  _ nice _ . 

He used his shirt to clean himself off, and then went into the bathroom, coming out with a damp towel. Carefully he cleaned her thighs, hips, crease, and ass. A kind of reverence, even in this. She was sure she’d never made such a mess before but he gave her a sweet smile when he noticed her blush, putting aside the towel and laying down next to her. 

She wished the heat from her blush would spread to her whole body and she could just burn up right there so she wouldn’t have to face the voyeur to her utter and complete exposure just yet. But when she met his gaze out of the corner of her eye he only looked content. She dared to face him more fully. 

His mouth was still red and swollen, his hair tousled thoroughly, the picture made her laugh again. He rolled his eyes and pulled her to him, an arm firmly around her waist. She breathed in the smell of him. Under the lingering scent of his soap was the smell of their  _ sin _ and  _ him _ . 

She would stand by this Kristoff for the rest of my life. Rumors and reputations be damned. No matter what, this is the Bjorgman she would give the benefit to.

And for a night it was like there had been no loneliness and no loss and no nightmares waiting for them to close our eyes. She forgot everything outside the arms around her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta for this one so I apologize for any mistakes or errors, etc. <3 I'm doing my best!


	5. Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some filler fluff before we get into the Part 2 of this storyline. The next chapter will cover more backstory and world building and introduce Elsa and a few new monsters

Anna woke up to the sound of the radio scanner. It jarred her from her sleep, a conditioned response. She was still tired, but she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. It has her wired from the moment she woke up. 

She lifted her arm from her eyes enough to peek out and see that the room was indeed empty. She yawned and stretched, before sliding out from under the sheets. The cool air was welcome in the summer heat and she shivered as she put on the discarded shirt Kristoff lent her last night. It falls halfway down her thighs, so she didn’t bother finding her panties. 

She used the bathroom and wandered into the kitchen, following the scent of strong coffee. Kristoff is sitting at the kitchen table with an old CB radio. He had a map out on the table and as she got closer she could see that it’s covered in different colored markings. 

She’ll ask him about it later, after she had some coffee. She started opening cupboards looking for a mug. Kristoff looked up briefly from his work. 

“Next to the-” He cleared his throat and looked back down at the map. “Refrigerator.” 

Anna’s not sure, but she thought he might be blushing. She looked down at herself, tucking a wayward hair behind her ear. His shirt had ridden up when she reached up to the high shelves, exposing a sliver of curls and the curve of her ass. 

She tugged it down while she poured herself a full cup, leaving a bit of space on the top for milk. She opened the fridge to find that not only did he have a half gallon of milk, but four different flavors of creamer. She forwent them in favor of her own facsimile of a two by two. It isn’t until she tasted it that she realized she may have made a mistake. 

She felt like a cartoon, like smoke might come out her ears. Her eyes watered and she coughed into her cup. 

“Shit. That’s potent.” She said around a cough.

Kristoff looked up from the table at the cup of coffee in her hand. He cringed apologetically. 

“Sorry. There’s creamer in the fridge.” He wasn’t looking at her or at the fridge when he said it. He was staring at the inch of cleavage showing through the neckline of his shirt. Or maybe at her nipples. She couldn’t tell. 

“Creamer can’t fix that.” She went to the fridge anyway, picked out a cookies and cream one. It seemed like the least offensive of the options. She poured a hefty helping into her mug. 

She still had to chug most of it, swallowing quickly to avoid the flavor lingering on her tongue, but it’s marginally better. 

With a little coffee in her system, she took a seat across from him. The static of the radio a backdrop to their somewhat stilted conversation. 

“So what’s your deal?” He made notes in a notebook now, though whether or not he was only doing so to avoid looking at her again was still up for debate. 

“What do you mean?” She was pretty sure he would see right through her if she tried to lie. Even now he raised a warning eyebrow in her direction. 

“You’ve got nowhere to go, right?” It’s not accusatory. Still Anna felt the sting of it. 

“I don’t have  _ nowhere. _ ” He gave her a beseeching look. It made him look like his dog.

“Ya, I’ve got nowhere to go.” He nodded his head like he’d been expecting this. 

“Cereal’s in the cupboard by the stove. You know where the milk is.” She waited for him to say more for a good, solid minute before she realized there wouldn’t be any. Apparently he wanted her to make herself at home and that was the end of that. So she got out a spoon and a bowl, she found those all on her own, and sat down across from him at the table. 

She ate as quietly as she could, but it still feels supersonic in the stillness of the room. She even drank the last bit of milk at the bottom, even though she hated it, to be polite. He waited until she had finished everything in the bowl to continue their conversation. 

“I’m guessing you want to lay low here for a while?” It hadn’t been her plan. She’d just planned to get one night out of it, but here they were three days later and he hadn’t kicked her out yet. 

And-well-she didn’t quite know what to do with that. 

“Are you offering?” She made it about him instead. 

He looked up from the notebook. His eyes reminded her of cups of golden chamomile tea, with honey. He reminded her of  _ home _ . She would stay, if he asked. She slept well for the first time in ages in his bed. She can sit in his kitchen without jumping at shadows, without living in fear of the creatures that live in the dark. She wanted that all the time. 

“I’m offering.” He said after a long moment. 

Anna couldn’t help her smile, so she hid it behind another sip of terrible coffee. 

“If I’m staying, I make the coffee.” She held out her hand between them. He reached back across the table to take it. His hand feels right against her own, swallowing it up in a firm grip. It’s an agreement. 

Satisfied, Anna pours the rest of her coffee down the sink. 

After she got dressed, back into the clothes she washed in the shower, she came back to sit at the table with him once again. She was eager for something to do. She’s not used to sitting still for very long. 

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Thinking.” He answered. 

“About what?” He sighed and abandoned his colored Sharpie on the table. 

“Do you ever stop asking questions?” He ran a hand through his hair while he spoke, leaning back in his chair. Without his shoulders hunched over his work he took up more space. 

“I wasn’t asking questions last night.” It was the first time either of them have brought up the night before and it has the desired effect. He went rigid in his seat, like a deer in the headlights. 

Good. She wanted to surprise him. 

“I have a washer. A dryer too.” He said after, presumably, his brain stopped short circuiting. 

Anna felt the blush in the roots of her hair. She knew she looked bedraggled. She didn’t smell like a flower either in the stiff clothes. 

“Sorry...I only have the two pairs of clothes.” She couldn’t help the way it came out a whisper, dulled by shame. 

“I liked you in mine better anyway.” 


	6. Emotional Hangover

Apparently hangovers applied to more than just getting black out drunk and calling your ex and waking up feeling shitty about it. She could get just as hungover over a stupid decision as she could from a whiskey sour. 

It’s not that she  _ regretted _ sleeping with Kristoff, only now they were roommates? Or something similar, until she could get her feet back under her, she wasn’t so sure it had been the right decision. Her last eviction had really thrown her for a loop and she’d yet to recover. 

But it was hard to take the bounties where the real money was when she didn’t have a car. Her income relied on a heavily fluctuating market. There would be weeks where there was nothing on the scanners and then days like the one at the parking garage. Where the monsters came out in style. 

She couldn’t separate out what was her mind trying to process their most recent encounter and what was her mind trying to process Kristoff. Her feelings for Kristoff and her desperate desire for stability had a great deal of overlap. It all became one tangled ball of yarn inside her and the more she tugged, the bigger it got. 

So she stopped tugging. 

She’d changed into another old t-shirt of Kristoff’s. She rummaged through his dresser to find it when she had put her own clothes in the wash. It advertised the logo of a concrete company on the back. She wondered if it was from an old job. The cotton was worn soft, which was why she picked it out, making sure to grab a pair of the neatly folded, plaid boxers this time. 

She  _ may  _ have snooped a little while she grabbed them. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Girly magazines? Stacks of cash? Mementos from past conquests? She didn’t find any of those things, but she does find a picture of young Kristoff underneath a christmas tree with two smiling faces next to him. He looked just like his father, except for his mother’s smile. 

It felt  _ wrong  _ to see this part of him, especially when he’d given answers to her freely, if not a little begrudgingly, whenever she’d asked. She carefully slid the picture back under the pile of socks and returned to the kitchen. 

“Are you going to show me what you’re working on?” She took the seat opposite him again. Sven came up beside her and rested his head on her lap, eyes beseeching as he begged for affection. She absentmindedly stroked him while she looked over the confusing collection of symbols and long lines covering the map before her. 

“I suppose you won’t give me any peace until I do.” He sighed and slid the stack of papers, reminiscent of a police cork board, further toward her. 

Anna took a closer look. 

“About eight months ago I started noticing weird things coming in on the scanner.” He flipped through his notebook toward the very beginning. “Somebody was calling in false reports. Look.” 

There was a list neatly written out on the ruled paper. On the left are addresses and details:  _ Jan 15, 155 Elm Ave, Thunderbird _ . Each one with a checkmark by them. On the right is a list almost identical. She can’t see the difference in them even as he came around the table to show her. He stood behind her, leaning over the back of the chair so that both she and Sven are trapped in his embrace. 

“See here?” He points to the page on the left. “Those are all the real cases. The checkmark means I either responded myself or confirmed it.” 

“But look here on the right. All of these reports were false. We showed up and there was just...nothing there.” He turned the pages of the notebook excitedly. There were pages lists: addresses, dates, and creatures, interspersed with details about the cases. 

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It could have been some kids trying to be funny. It could have been a misidentification. I mean the creature could have just already left, right?” She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt but she doesn’t even know what he was getting at. 

“That’s what I thought, but these weren’t even in areas where creatures had been spotted before.” This is where he brang in the map. 

He surrounded her now, the only thing separating them was the back to her chair, and even through the gaps in the wood she could feel the heat of his body. 

“All the green X’s are the real reports. Blue means activity has been reported there before. Red means there was nothing, false case.” It still didn’t point to anything in her mind, but such a wealth of information would certainly come in handy. She knew charts and demographics like this existed, they just weren’t made available to the likes of them. These sorts of maps sat in developer’s and real estate agent’s offices. Properties around the epicenter of activity were always cheap. 

“What does the purple mean?” She can see a few of those. One’s right on the address of the parking garage where they met. 

“Well, a few weeks ago the false reports just...stopped. Well, not completely, but they dropped off significantly.” He points to one of the purple X’s, it’s got a tiny number 1 written as a subscript. “It was like everything went back to normal. The purple X’s are any reports that showed up nothing after that last one.” 

“And the line?” Anna traced the long red line criss-crossing across the map with her finger. 

“It connects all the suspect activity in the order they happened. It starts here,” His hair brushed her cheek as he leaned around her to run his hand along the map. “and goes in this direction.”

It started to look  _ plausible  _ to say the least, that the events were somehow all connected. It was certainly suspect to say the least. 

“Well, what did the reports say?” 

“That’s the thing. I didn’t get everything written down, not at first, but once I noticed a pattern, I started taking better notes.” 

“February fourteenth was the first day that I noticed what they were doing.” He flips open to a page in the notebook and passes it to Anna. 

_ Feb 14  _

_ 1004 Hummel St _

_ Peryton _

_ Reports of two young women _

_ One thought to be in danger _

“I didn’t even know what a Peryton  _ was,  _ I had to look it up.” There was a poor quality print out slipped between the pages. It was lined across the surface where the ink had started to run out, but she can make out the image of a winged stag. 

“ Perytons lived in Atlantis until it was destroyed. They flew away to escape. They cast the shadow of a man until they kill one, then it can cast its own shadow.” Anna shuddered. It caused her shoulder to brush against him, and she had a hard time distinguishing between the shudder of horror and the thrill she can’t help but feel from his touch. 

The whole room had an energy to it. A vibrational frequency that buzzed in the air. She could feel the excitement of something  _ new _ , something they could change. She nearly burst with it, this restless bundle of nerves.

“I started to think then. What if all the creatures in these fake reports were a sign? What if they all meant something.” Anna read more closely now, looking over his notes with a more discerning eye. It was difficult, with Kristoff still looming over her and Sven still waiting for attention at her side. She felt overwhelmed and not just by his presence. There was something itching at the edge of her mind. It felt like someone pressing on a wall that had begun to close in on her. 

“I went back to the very first one. A phoenix right? A creature rising from the ashes. The peryton escaped destruction by flight. I started to see a pattern.” He pointed to each X on the map as he described it and not for the first time Anna wondered how much time he spent pouring over these notes. Anna felt a bit bad, but she stopped listening to him. 

She could’t hear the individual words he said anymore, instead they ran together in a long and unintelligible string of sounds she didn’t recognize. In fact, she couldn’t hear anything with any real clarity anymore. The hum of the refrigerator, the clink of Sven’s tags, the birds that congregate around the little feeder outside. Anna’s face felt too big for her body. She couldn’t feel her legs. The whole world closed in on her. 

“Anna? Anna!” Kristoff’s voice broke through the shrouding fog that threatened to consume her. Anna didn’t know when he moved to kneel beside her, displacing Sven. A hand rested on her shoulder, a firm pressure that drove some of the desperation away. 

She looked him in his eyes, large with worry, but he looked as out of focus as she felt. It wasn’t until a gentle finger came to wipe away her tears that she realized she’d been crying. She could hear it now. The sobs escaping her lips. 

“I know who it is.” She clutched one of Kristoff’s hand cut photos in her hand, unable to bring herself to let go. “I know who did this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know who it is?


	7. Message From A Ghost

Kristoff could be completely calm when he wanted, or needed, to be. They were both a bit hot-tempered, that much had been evident since their first meeting, but he had a greater capacity to push past it than her. Perhaps it was the fact that she had completely and utterly fallen apart that signalled him to take charge. Whatever the reason, Kristoff handled her emotions in stride. 

If Anna had spent eight months meticulously unravelling encrypted messages she wouldn’t have been so calm in the face of the key to her mystery. She’d known about his riddle for all of twenty minutes and just _ look _ at her. She was practically giddy. 

“What do you mean?” He spoke carefully, moved slowly, like one would if they were trying not to scare a wild animal. He didn’t believe her, she could tell. Why would he? He’d done months of research and she’d done what? Flipped through his notebook and looked at some pretty drawings?

“I know who’s behind all this.” She held up the picture she had crumpled in her hand. “This is a Kelpie. It’s a water horse, from Scotland. It was used to warn children away from water, my mother used to tell us the story.” She ended the explanation in a whisper. Kristoff still has one hand on her shoulder, and the other came to rest on her thigh in a comforting gesture. 

He didn’t believe her, she can tell. He was trying to let her down easily. She must have looked slightly crazy, a woman left alone for too long, imagining things in her loneliness. Maybe she was. She certainly couldn’t remain calm and collected when her sister might be alive-might have been trying to communicate with her. 

“Kristoff it’s-it’s my sister.” She could feel the tide welled up inside her again, pushing to break free. She tried to stand, to do something to let out this restless energy boiling up inside of her. “It’s Elsa. I know it. She’s in trouble and she’s trying to tell me something.”

“Anna, you shouldn’t get your hopes up. There’s no way to know who or what is behind this.” She saw it on his face, he didn’t believe her. 

“You don’t understand! It’s Elsa! I’m sure of it!” She was still searching for the right words to convince him to give her a chance. He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. She hated the way that she missed the weight of it on her shoulder. She hated the way that she needed him to understand. Needed him to believe her. Needed him. 

“Anna, you can’t know that! There’s months of these messages. There’s no telling who or why they’ve been sent or what they’re trying to say, if anything.” 

“No!” She stood, the crash of her chair against the linoleum a theatric soundtrack to her anger. It startled Sven and he retreated into the other room, tail between his legs. Kristoff watched him go before turning back to her; he's properly angry now. She saw it in the set of his jaw, the angle of his eyebrows, the glint in his eye. She didn’t know what he’s like angry, but she knew she was about to find out. He stood up and moved a few steps away, before speaking, his voice low. 

“I’ve spent months looking into this. Creatures and Monsters? They’re my life. I’m not going to let some half-baked, know-nothing, monster-butcher come in after five minutes and try to tell me-” So he had a cruel rage. The kind that drew out your insecurities and laid them out on a table to dine on. Anna felt as if he were doing so now. As if a steak knife was being driven into her and sawed back and forth until she was completely in two. She didn’t bother to let him finish.

“It’s Elsa! I’m her  _ sister _ . I would know if she were-if she were-” She can’t bring herself to say the words, never has. “She never would have left without a good reason.”

“No one is saying she wanted to leave you. If your sister disappeared Anna you need to consider the fact that she isn’t coming back. You can’t spend your life desperate to see her around every corner.” 

“Oh and you would know? How long did it take you to stop looking for your parents? Huh?” She knew she should stop, could feel it like a bone deep itch, but she wanted him to feel what she’d felt. Wanted him to know what it was like to bleed on the inside. 

“How long before you could look in the mirror again without seeing them? How long did you want to tear your own smile from your lips because it belonged to her?” She had done it then. He looked like a great god of fury. 

She’d never realized just how powerful he looked, the kind of power that didn’t come from large muscles or leather jackets. It’s the kind of power that when drunk with rage allowed him to walk quietly from the room and out the front door. 

Anna stood in the kitchen. The refrigerator hummed. The birds chirped outside the window. Sven’s tags clincked as he cautiously made his way back into the kitchen, looking for his owner. 

“I fucked up Sven.” She whispered. He sat in the middle of the kitchen floor and whined. “I really fucked up.” 

He didn’t come back after Anna returned everything on the kitchen table to the meticulous way she’d found it. He didn’t come back after she’d made the bed. He didn’t come back after she switched over her laundry. 

She made sandwiches. Turkey, lettuce, and tomato. She used a loaf of bread she found in the bread box on the counter where she also found some chocolate sandwich cookies she couldn’t bring herself to eat. The bread was homemade. She wondered if Kristoff had made it. She wrapped up both of their plates. He didn’t come home. 

She sat on the couch, Sven laying at her feet. He’d already gotten tired of her anxious petting and moved himself out of reach. She had changed her clothes, put his in the hamper, like it had never happened. 


	8. Make It Up To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thanks to everyone who helped me get through this chapter.  
> Sometimes you just have to write some make up sex to get over your writer's block.

By the time Kristoff came back he had red across his cheeks and nose. She hadn’t heard the roar of his truck, so he must have been walking in the afternoon sun. 

“Where did you go?” She wasn’t even sure her whisper would reach him. He stood, between the door and TV, unmoving. Sven bounded up and circled at his feet excitedly, but he made no move to acknowledge him.

“The porch.” The whole time she’d wrestled her guilt he was only a few feet away. 

“Oh.” It felt oddly comforting. “I made lunch.” She hated the way she defaulted to pretending nothing happened. She loved the way it felt to be in sync with him, missed the comfort of his calm presence. She made her way to the kitchen all the same. He followed her, at a distance, lingered in the archway. It was obvious the strategy of burying her head in the sand wasn’t going to fly. 

“I’m-” She couldn’t produce an artificial version of the tentative balance they’d struck, couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t at least try to make it right. She fiddled with the plastic wrap on their chilled plates. 

“I’m sorry.” She meant it. Sometimes it felt like she had years of that stuff just piled up inside of her and then when she got angry, really, properly, angry, it gathered like storm clouds. She felt the aftermath of it now. The guilt and the disappointment. Disappointment in herself. She’d always believed that no matter what happened to her, she could be her best self. 

“Don’t apologize to me Anna, not after that. Not after what I said.” She remembered how it felt, the way it left his lips like a bullet.  _ Butcher _ . 

“No, I  _ should _ be sorry. What I said...it was  _ awful _ .” What he’d said was true. She couldn’t fault him that. The truth always cut the deepest. What she said though, it had been cruelty, a wolf in sheep's clothing. There was no excusing that, no purity in it. At least his words bore the mark of honesty. She’d said the words that haunted her alone in the shower and in dark alleys. Her truth-ugly and mean. She said what she said because she knew it  _ hurt _ .

“You had provocation-” He began. Did provocation justify cruelty? She certainly didn’t think so. 

“ _ Provocation?  _ Is this a court hearing?” She doesn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to hear him rationalize her anger. She wanted him to accept the apology so they could move on. Instead she can feel them moving backwards, toward another argument. 

“Of course not!” He scrubbed a hand down his face, like he could wipe away the growing irritation there. 

“Then why won’t you just let me apologize!” She’s tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of  _ thinking _ . 

“Because I deserved it!” It grinds the argument to a stop.  _ He deserved it? _ Nobody deserved that, and certainly not him. He built up this bad boy, hard ass image persona, maybe he’d started to believe it. 

“Then you say those things about yourself, but I don’t want to!” That wasn’t what she wanted them to be to each other. That was the worst lie of them all, that he believed any of what she said to him and any of what she didn’t, but he had  _ heard.  _

Kristoff nearly vibrated with a pent of energy that seemed to burst forth all at once, and all focused on her. He stalked forward until the veneer countertops dug into the small of her back. His thick arms blocked her in on either side. 

“Why do you have to be so goddamn impossible all the time?” He’s frustrated, she can tell, maybe even bordering on angry. But it’s a deflated kind of exasperation, like air slowly leaking out of a balloon. 

“I’m not.” She didn’t mean to whisper, but it felt as though there was a string, tightly strung, that ran between them. She was afraid to pluck it. 

“Oh, but you are.” It didn’t feel like an insult. Not when his chest still strained with the efforts of his breaths. Certainly not when it sounded so suggestive. She found maybe it didn’t have to be a bad thing, pushing him to the edge.

“Kiss me.” She plucked the string. 

“No.” She could see the suggestion of a smile, just at the corner of his lips. She wanted him to pull out the stopper and let out the electricity that practically buzzed around him. Wanted him to smile, even if the smile didn’t mean forgiveness. Sometimes forgiveness was something that came with time. 

Anna reached a hand up to sooth the deep crease between his eyebrows. His eyes blinked close, like the cat she’d had growing up, when she put him to sleep. She could practically hear what he would have to say about being compared to a kitty cat. 

It felt like the friction between them was finally giving way as Anna brought her lips to that little wrinkle. It soothed beneath her lips, she could feel his skin relax into something more supple under her fingers. 

His own hands came to grab her hips and hoist her onto the counter. She hit her head on the cabinet when he set her down. It smarted, but his thick fingers unclasping the button on her jeans was a pleasant enough balm. They awoke a different ache that dulled any other in comparison. 

“Kiss me please.” She asked once more. He ignored her, pulling her jeans down to her knees in one strong tug. 

“No.” It sent shivers down her spine now, the denial, his eyes tracing the lines of her mouth. 

It didn’t feel like rejection, not when his hand trailed slowly over her thigh, thumb stopping to circle a cluster of freckles before coming so close to where she’d wanted him to be for days. Even when he’s about to fuck her against the counter he touched her with reverence. Anna didn’t want worship, not now, she wanted  _ sacrilege _ . 

She pushed her underwear aside, not giving herself a chance to feel self conscious about the worn grey that had once been white or the faded period stains, leaving no question about what it was that she wanted. 

His fingers dipped into her without penetrating, gathering the wetness there. She hadn’t realized how the adrenaline, the absolute focus of his attention, turned her on. Still, there wasn’t enough to keep the rough drag of the pads of his fingers from carrying with it a slight sting. She hadn’t realized that too could have its own appeal. 

She knows the feelings his body could unleash upon her and she craved it. She dug her fingers into his hair, into his scalp, and pulled. It forced him to look at her. His eyes fierce and and hungry, like a bear that’s been taunted. 

“Kiss me.” She demanded. 

His hand came up to thump against the cupboard by her head and he came close. So close. She could taste his breath on her lips. Still, he did not kiss her. He teased her with gentle pressure, pressing his thumb just above her clit and releasing over and over again until she was wet enough to aid the slide as he began to trace circles around her. _Circle. Circle. Figure eight._ _Circle. Circle. Figure-_

“Kiss me.” It came out on a breath, little more than a gasp. He slipped a finger inside her instead. She trembled now, the cupboards rattled where she rested against them. She wondered how in this too, this rough and ready union, he could make her feel irreplaceable. 

He teased her opening with a knuckle, before slipping a second finger inside. She couldn’t help her reaction when the hand still tangled in the impossible softness of his hair curled into a fist. And when she arched her back  _ just so _ when his fingers slid ever deeper, she couldn’t help that either. He stroked her front walls commanding her to head his request,  _ come hither.  _ She longed to heed them. 

His thumb took up the task of stimulating her neglected clit. It was a move she’d never been able to perfect on herself. Her fingers were too short, too clumsy, the angle too awkward. Kristoff pulled it off with ease, driving her higher toward an end she knew would taste so sweet. 

When she finally fell over the edge and he finally,  _ finally  _ kissed her, it tasted all the sweeter. 

“Can I fuck you into the table now?” He growled, hiding the plea behind it, when he finally pulled away. It sounded too much like a question and Anna wondered what it would sound like when they were secure enough for it to be a command. 

“Do it.” She demanded. She practically campaigned for it. 

“Go and bend yourself over the table.” He stepped back, just enough for her to slide off the counter on shaky legs. The walk over, despite being only a few steps, was a bit difficult with her pants around her feet. It ended up more of a shuffle. She was bent at the waist, bringing her chest flush with its surface, and looking back over her shoulder when she heard him move. She had to crane her neck to see him watching her. 

His eyes looked over her ass approvingly. They lingered there as he took a step forward, unbuckling himself as he did. He left her field of vision when he was right behind her, she could only make him out in pieces, glimpses of his arm, a peek of his hip as he pushed his denims out of the way. It’s a series of illicit vignettes. 

His hand came down to knead the flesh of her ass appreciatively. She wondered if the touch felt as cathartic for him as it was to her. His hands could swallow her breasts. She knew this. Didn’t mind it either, not at all. She finds herself grateful he can’t do the same to her ass. She liked the way he lifted the cheeks and let them go, liked that she could feel them bounce. 

She couldn’t sustain the effort of holding her head up any more. Her cheek fell against the table, joining her pinned breasts. She wished she wasn’t wearing a _shirt_. Kristoff paused his ministrations and she knew he was going to pull back, could sense that the untamed nature of his movements was coming to an end. 

“ _ Spank me _ .” She hadn’t know that she wanted that. It had never crossed her mind before Kristoff. She imagined the sting, the feel of his hands, and she craved it. Maybe it was because she knew Kristoff would never hurt her otherwise. Maybe it was just because she was so horny she might start begging for his cock in a minute. 

Thankfully, she didn’t get a chance to do a deep psychoanalysis of the urge. Kristoff’s hand came down onto her cheek and sent her lurching forward. It was more of a forceful grab really, but it had Anna moaning all the same. 

“Hold onto the table.” His hand still gripped her ass hard, an echo of her grip on his hair. If she sank back into it, her belly stretched taunt, pinched beneath the table and her own weight. The action tugged at her cunt and if she just rocked a little...

A firm smack landed on her bum. 

“I said, hands on the table.” Anna scrambled to obey, inarticulate and shuddering. The sting of it lingers, but it was the way her pussy clenched when he’d brought his hand down that she enjoyed the most. She wanted to do it around his cock. 

“Ready?” She didn’t know what he was asking if she was ready for his cock or his hand, but she wanted whatever he would give her. She’d take his fucking crumbs for gods sake. 

“Yes.” She practically shouted back. If she expected hesitance, she was wrong. His hand came down once again. And again. The slap of his hand isn’t hard, not really. It’s just enough to elicit a sudden warmth.

His hand stroked the hot skin following the curve down between her thighs. She’s dripping, she can feel it coating her thighs. It eased the way as he plunged two fingers into her. He scissored them, both for her pleasure and to prepare her for him. His fingers were large and she knew just how  _ large _ the thing they prepared her for was too. 

When he pulled them free he gave her pussy a light slap, sending a shock through her swollen clit. 

“Kristoff!” She screamed. 

“Yes?” His voice dripped with false innocence. The head of his cock had replaced his fingers to tease her opening before bringing it up to soothe her pulsing clit. It only served to turn her into a babbling mess. 

He shushed her gently before driving his cock inside her with one slightly stuttered thrust. It felt so good to finally have something for her muscles to hold onto, just as desperately as she gripped the edges of the table to keep herself from careening forward when he plowed into her from behind. 

She resigned herself to the hum of an orgasm just out of reach when the hand that wasn’t holding her hip firmly in place to brace against his thrusts, worked its way to stimulate her, making his aim clear. 

He matched his movements. _ Up, pull out. Down, push in.  _

He came first, hand dragging her toward him so that her ass molded to his body. The hand on her clit faltered so Anna took things into her own. She reached down to bring herself to completion with skillful practice, with holding her own, following the intimate dance of her fingers. He was still inside her when her muscles quivered and clenched their release. 

As the euphoria wore off, and she blinked the white from her eyes, she realized his research still decorated the table. It was a startling reminder of what got them there in the first place. 

She gasped when he pulled out, not expecting the loss of it, the acute longing for closeness. She brought herself to stand on unsteady legs. She realized the position she was in, pants pulled down to her ankles, cum dripping down the lips of her pussy. She suddenly felt cold, like it radiated from her bones. She wondered if humiliation could feel like ice sometimes. 

She moved to pull up her pants, clinging to anything that would mean she didn’t have to face him yet. She could hear the fridge door open and close behind her. It confirmed to her that this was a meaningless fuck. He’d gotten what he was after. 

A glass clinked down on the table in front of her. She blinked dumbly at the contents. 

“You should drink that. Your glucose is probably about to crash.” She looked up to find Kristoff, leaning against the counter, watching her. She tentatively picked up the glass to bring it to her lips, but her hand shook. Kristoff kicked off the counter and came forward to wrap a steady hand around hers and help the juice to her mouth. 

She drank greedily. Only when she had emptied the thing did she set it back down on the table. 

“Thank you.” Her hand was a little sticky from where the juice had sloshed out. He didn’t seem to mind. 

“Your welcome.” He said it like it was a reminder.  _ You’re welcome _ . To him. To his home. To his help.

She hadn’t finished with her pants yet, Kristoff hadn’t either. He’d tucked his cock back into his boxers, but the zipper hung open. She moved to do up her own, but Kristoff reached out to gently hold her wrists, effectively stopping her. 

“Let me.” He sunk to his knees before her. His hands moved to delicately fit the waistband of her jeans into place. The fabric felt foreign against her over sensitized skin, but she didn’t say anything to him about it. She didn’t want to stop the tender way he drew the zipper up her body and worked the button closed. 

He placed a wistful kiss against her belly before standing once again to face her. She was speechless-unsure of what to say and more than that-not wanting to ruin the moment. 

“I’m really sorry.” She whispered at the risk of shattering the tranquility. 

“I know. I’m really sorry too.” It cut through any remaining tension she’d been harboring, melting it away once and for all. 

She fell forward against him and rested her head right where she imagined his heart to be. She felt exhausted, despite it only being late afternoon. Kristoff’s arms came around her to hold her, a safe haven. 

“I forgive you.” He offered.

That easily? She said she was sorry and he forgave her? No questions, no reparations, no making her feel guilty for a few days to get what he wanted? Was this what forgiveness felt like? The settling in her chest, the enveloping warmth? 

“I forgive you too.” She looked up at him now, his eyes heavy with something she couldn’t name. Maybe he too felt the reprieve of absolution. Maybe it made him long for her touch in the same way she longed for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: A serious talk about Elsa and a plan is born.


	9. What Next

After Anna had showered and finally eaten the lunch she’d prepared, she ended up in bed. She was dog tired, waiting for sleep to come, when Kristoff came out of the bathroom. He’d taken Sven on a walk, alone, and gone about his routine quietly and independently of her. 

Sven had already clamoured into bed with her and she didn’t have the heart to kick him out. It was nice, having the large, fluffy dog to cuddle up next to her. He seemed to have forgiven her for her earlier outburst. Kristoff stood and watched them a moment before he padded over to sit on the end of the bed by her feet. 

“We need to talk about earlier.” He gently prompted. Sven, who had already nodded off, his ears twitched in his sleep at the sound of Kristoff’s voice.

“I know.” Anna sighed. She lightly stroked Sven’s head to calm herself. “Can it wait?”

“If you want it to.” She looked back to Kristoff. He looked earnest. She knew if she really wanted to, if she asked, he would wait. She also knew she didn’t want anything coming between them. She wanted to be on the same side with him, always. 

“It's just...I can’t tell, whether it’s just me desperately wanting all of it to be connected to her somehow, or if it’s real. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not sometimes, when you’re fighting monsters.” She wanted it to be Elsa, desperately. She still believed it was her, if she was being honest with herself. Then again she had been sure of things before. Sure that her family would always be there. Sure that Hans loved her. Sure that monsters couldn’t touch her. 

“Hey, this is real. Okay?” He reached across the space between them to take her hand. “Feel my that? This is real.” 

He certainly felt real. She could remember how  _ real  _ he felt. His thumb ran along her knuckles, she wanted to believe that this feeling was real too. 

“Okay.” She said, but she didn’t know where to start. She was still thinking about his hand, holding her own, how the warmth of him seeped into her toes. 

“Will you tell me about her?” Kristoff asked. 

“Elsa?” She knew that’s who he meant. Part of her just has to be sure, has to give him an out. Maybe give herself an out too. 

“Ya. I’d like to know, even if it’s not, you know, her.” It stung just a little, but it was soothed by the fact that he really didn’t  _ mean _ for it to sound skeptical. He was giving her a chance, she knew this. Not just a chance to explain herself, but to let him in. She had to take her chance. 

“She’s my older sister. We’re three years apart and polar opposites really. She never really liked going out. I couldn’t get enough of it. She’s quiet and reserved and I’m-” Where did she even begin when describing herself. “I’m loud and clumsy. That’s another thing-she’s so graceful, like a bird, but a very pretty bird.” Anna was more of a penguin, than a peacock.

“Like a swan?” Kristoff offered. She wondered if he would compare her to such a creature now too. She’d come up sort. 

“Ya, like a swan.” One that had never gone through the stage as an ugle duckling. 

“When we were kids, we were inseparable. We used to stay up reading under the covers with our flashlight. Or sliding down the banisters. Things were so good then. But my parents wanted her to go to a prep school and so one day she was gone.” Anna remembered the tender moments with joy that slipped through her fingers like sand. 

Time number one. 

“At least then I got letters and she visited for holidays. She was home, when my parents died. She’d come down from studying to see them off. When they never came back...when they died...she stayed for the funeral, and then left for college.” 

Time number two. 

“Was that when she disappeared?” He asked softly, like he was already prepared to comfort her. 

“No, I-” She almost didn’t want to share this next part with him. She didn’t let herself think too hard about  _ why _ . “I met someone. She didn’t like him. We fought about it when she came home for Christmas break.”

She remembered the heat of those arguments, the frost of the aftermath. The slam of doors and the echoing quiet for days when she didn’t come back out. Then one morning, her door was open, her suitcase was gone, and when Anna went to the window, her car wasn’t in the drive. 

“A few months later, I woke up and my bank accounts had been drained. When I went to see what had happened I discovered all our assets had been liquidated. It was all gone. I had nothing.” 

Her third and final disappearance. Her grand finale. 

She remembered the cold realization that Elsa was the sole heir. Their parents had trusted her and  _ entrusted _ her. They could have never foreseen that she would turn on her sister. Neither had Anna. 

“You had your boyfriend right?” Anna was hoping he had forgotten about that part. 

“No-uh-he left.” She brushed off the part where Hans left her on the side of the road after they had dinner and she’d told him, in tears, what had happened. 

“He left when he found out you had no money?” Kristoff said it like he thought he heard her wrong. She wished he had. Maybe he just couldn’t believe anyone would do that to her. She hadn’t either. His hand tightened around hers, almost a protective gesture, that said he understood more than she said. 

“...Yes.” For a long time Anna had told herself that wasn’t it. That she’d been too loud. Too clingy. Too naive. It had been her tears that had driven him away, surely? She always was an ugly crier. Anything besides the obvious. 

“What a fucking shithead.” Kristoff’s posture changed as he said it. He got bigger almost, took up more space in the room, reminded her of how he could make himself the only thing she could see, if he stood close enough. It drove away any lingering feeling about Hans  _ that’s _ for sure. 

“I tried to call Elsa, but she was _ gone _ . Her phone was disconnected. Her apartment was empty. She had just...vanished.” Anna had no way to know if this time was for good, except to wait. 

“So she cut and run?” Kristoff asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“No!” Sven woke up at the sound of her stern reply. “No.” She spoke quieter, but no less convinced. 

“Elsa carried everything on her shoulders, but it was because she  _ cared _ . She wouldn’t have just left. It wasn’t in her nature.” Elsa had defied their parents to make her life brighter, richer, fuller time and time again. People like that didn’t just change. 

Did they? 

“What could have made her leave?” It was another way of apologizing, asking the question, and Anna forgives him. She knows what it must look like from the outside. Doesn’t blame him. 

“I don’t know.” She’d certainly asked herself that question many times. Anna reached over with her free hand to stroke Sven back to sleep. 

“Well, why do you think she was the one leaving the messages.” She didn’t  _ think  _ she was the one leaving the messages she  _ knew _ . Like you know the night will end and the sun will rise again. 

“Kristoff, I-” She didn’t want to argue again. 

“No really. Tell me, please” He highlighted the plea with the brush of fingers again. 

“I told you about the Kelpie right?” She decided to skirt around the subject a bit first, test the waters. 

“The water horse? Ya.” She felt a little spark of warmth, that despite all that had happened, he had been listening. It spurred her on.

“It’s not just that. It was the message. ‘Went too far. Going to drown.’ My mother used to sing us a lullaby.  _ Dive down deep into her sound, but not too far or you'll be drowned. _ If she’d been chasing something or chased _ by  _ something that could explain why she disappeared. ” It felt more personal than anything she’d shared so far, this glimpse of her mother. It felt easier somehow, to share the more gruesome details of her life, than these cherished memories. 

“Anna I don’t want to-”  _ Get your hopes up _ . Here it came. 

“You don’t have to break it to me easy. I know it’s a long shot.” She was grasping at straws, right? 

“No, Anna, I believe you.” She blinked away the tears that had gathered some time between when he came into the room and now. She couldn’t recall when.

“What?” She sat straight up, bringing them face to face. 

“I’ve been trying to work this out for months and that’s the first theory that’s made even a lick of sense.” She couldn’t stop the furiously beating of her heart. Kristoff thought she might be right. Kristoff  _ believed _ her. 

“So what do we do next?” Anna’s shaking with energy, the impulse to do something, even if she didn’t know what that something was. 

“We go to the last place we know she was.” Kristoff shrugged. 

“We should leave now.” Anna slipped her hand from Kristoff’s to throw back the covers. She swung her legs over the side and woke Sven again who looked raring ready to go as well. He was up on his front paws, tail thumping against the bed. 

“Whoa their feisty pants. We can leave _ tomorrow. _ ” He placed a hand on each shoulder to guide her back down to a sitting position. For a moment she debated fighting him on it, but she was tired. Tired in her head and in her heart. Tired in her bones.

“We leave in the morning!” She declared. 

Kristoff rolled his eyes and moved to let her crawl back into the bed. He slipped in next to her, decidedly without Sven, the bed wasn't big enough for the both of them let alone the three of them. 

Sleep didn’t come for a long while. When it did, it was after Kristoff had crossed the distance to wrap his arms around her. She rolled over to place her ear over his heart, to listen to the lullaby of the gentle beat of his heart. 


	10. Eleanor Rigby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read over this chapter quickly before I posted, but at 5k and with the corvid depression hitting hard, I just wasn't feeling the editing, so kindly overlook any errors. It's midnight and I am a sleepy son of a bitch. XOXO Gossip Girl

Anna didn’t know what this was. She didn’t know what it meant to fall asleep in Kristoff’s arms but wake up in an empty bed. She didn’t know what it meant to fuck in his kitchen but then go on with their day without acknowledging it. 

Anna didn’t know how to give herself over to someone without giving everything. 

She didn’t _ love _ Kristoff. Not by any stretch of the imagination. She did love the way he could make her _ feel _ . She loved the way she had a bed to crawl into every night and a hot shower every morning. 

She didn’t love that it could all come crashing down at any moment. 

It was a startling reminder how little she knew about him. How despite that when he was inside her, she felt like she  _ owned  _ him, they were ships passing in the night, just sharing the same port for a while before the sea would inevitably call one of them away. 

Until Elsa. Maybe she needed to be Elsa as much to tie her to Kristoff, as to vindicate her belief that she hadn’t been abandoned. She needed Elsa not to be someone who left, but she also needed to not be someone who got left. Whatever it was, she needed to not be abandoned again. 

She was doing exactly what she _ didn’t _ want to do. She was getting used to the luxuries around her, a hot shower, a loving dog, a surely human, a  _ warm  _ bed. She would have to learn to get by without again and it would taste all the more bitter after the loneliness had been chased from every dark corner of her heart. 

As long as this mystery remained, as long as they had something to chase, all that would still be hers. They  _ had _ to find something. 

She wasn’t even sure what outcome she hoped would come at the end of this wild goose chase. Did she think her life would go back to the way it was before? The big house, the staff, the refreshing lack of monsters under the bed? Things hadn’t been good _before_. The loneliness was with her, even then. 

She couldn’t forget that Elsa  _ left  _ her. Anna tended to angelify people, she knew this, it took her months to stop waiting for Hans to come back. The worst part was, if he had come back, she would have welcomed him with open arms. Elsa could have asked for help, explained herself, taken Anna with her,  _ anything _ . There had only been radio silence. Until there wasn’t. 

Kristoff popped his head in around the doorframe.

“Oh good! You’re awake.” And fixating on the past. 

“Ya sorry, I was just dozing.” A lie, but an innocent one, right? She missed the days of sleeping in until the sun was high enough to stop glaring through her bedroom window. 

“You still up for this?” He brought her back from her reminiscing again. 

It took her a second to realize what he meant. The clue. The road trip. 

“ _ Yes. _ ” She was out of bed before she could second guess herself. Full speed ahead.

“Alright then. I waited on the coffee, but if you don’t get started on it soon we’re going to have a problem on our hands.” Anna found herself smiling as she attempted to make the bed after herself. Eventually she gave up and just laid the comforter flat on top to hide the mistakes underneath. 

Kristoff pulled a duffle back out off the top shelf of the closet and proceeded to pack a day back. Anna didn’t worry too much about having time to do so herself, everything she owned was already packed away. 

She was surprised to find that Kristoff actually had nice coffee grounds. On the cheap side, yes, but a flavorful, value brand. She took her time enjoying the ritual of preparing the coffee. She even took the liberty of preparing him a cup. One sugar and a splash of milk, the same way as hers. She was surprised to find he had a large assortment of  _ strange _ mugs, besides the plain one she’d been using. She chose a 70s style smiley face for him and one with a lovely watercolor of a duck for herself. She carried it carefully down the hall to where he stuffed his toiletries into his bag before zipping the whole thing up. 

He turned when she came in. His expression melted into one of pure relief when he saw the offering in her outstretched hand.

“Thanks.” He took the mug.

“Nice mugs.” She said with a mock ‘cheers’. He clincked her back.

“They were here when I moved in.” He shrugged, but he’s smiling and eyeing the one she’d chosen for him. They may have been here when he moved in, but he hadn’t gotten rid of them.

“Shit!” Almost as soon as he brought the drink to his lips, he pulled it back violently. 

“Too hot?” She’d wanted him to like it and instead she’d made shitty coffee. She tentatively took a sip of hers to check. 

“No it’s just  _ good.” _ Anna had to hold in her smile as she swallowed a mouthful.

“Thanks.” He didn’t respond immediately, instead they stood side by side, her sipping her coffee slowly and Kristoff gulping it down. 

“You good to go?” He asked when he finished his off, looking forlornly at the bottom of the mug. 

“Ya, It’s just me and the backpack.” She felt awkward considering Kristoff has his duffle and a bag for his laptop and all of Sven’s things. What he brought for an overnight she lived out of.

“I would make some breakfast, but I think we better get on the road.” He looked to the clock on the nightstand. It was gone ten when he’d woken her up and now they would be pushing nine by the time they got halfway there. If they were lucky. 

“That’s okay. We can just stop at the McDonald’s on the North side of town.” Her mouth watered at the idea of a Mcgriddle, but her wallet cried out for dollar menu egg sandwiches. 

“Do you, uh, need to use the bathroom or anything before we head out?” He scratched the back of his neck as he said it. It brought back an old memory of going on vacation to a ski lodge as a child. It’d been the last time she’d seen snow.

Except when her nanny said it she didn’t have a bicep bulging out of a shirt sleeve, or a long stretch of torso, or a tiny sliver of exposed skin at the hem that showed off what Anna knew were soft love handles. 

“Let me take care of a few things and I’ll meet you at the car.” She still needed to get dressed for the day and brush the coffee breath away. 

Changing quickly, she shoved the makeshift pajamas back into her bag along with her toothbrush and hairbrush after she’d used them. 

When she met Kristoff outside, the truck was already going, Sven in the backseat, head out the window and tongue lolling. 

Kristoff locked up the house behind her as she piled into the passenger seat. They were pulling out of his neighborhood when he reached over to pop the glove box open. 

“Choose one.” He kept his eyes on the road while he brought his hand back to the wheel.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was humming. I can be quiet. I promise.” It was a habit that had gotten her more than one dirty look on the bus. 

“You’re fine. I just thought you might enjoy something to listen to. I’m not much for talking.” Maybe he meant in the car, because Anna couldn’t quite reconcile his insistence that he wasn’t one for talking with the man she'd spent the last week talking to. 

“Yes you are.” She insisted.

“You’re the talker, I’m just the answer-er.” She thought back on their interactions over the last several days. Had he really talked so little? It felt like  _ more _ . He’d told her about his parents. He’d told her about his research. They’d had little conversations about little things like toothpaste flavors, he preferred spearmint and she preferred mint. To brief, half-asleep arguments about who was stealing the covers. (Kristoff, always Kristoff.) 

He’d  _ certainly  _ been talking when he said her name with his fingers buried in her. 

“Then answer this. What music do you want me to put on?” She reigned her thoughts back in from that slippery slope. They just had nine hours in the car together, she could do that.

“Which ones do you know?” She flipped through the cases, their were some covers she didn’t recognize.  _ Sting. Police. Blink 182 _ . That one was familiar. 

“Um….The Beatles!” She really didn’t know very many of their songs.

“Then put in that one.” Kristoff encouraged her. He fiddled with the stereo system so it popped out the CD inside, which Anna took from him carefully. 

“I thought you didn’t want to hear me sing?” She found the matching case and snapped it back inside. 

“When did I say that?” Kristoff tilted his head a little to give her a funny look.

“So you  _ do  _ want me to sing along?” She wanted to be sure, one hundred percent sure, before she subjected him to her car karaoke. 

“Anna I’m getting whiplash over here, you can do whatever makes you happy.” She forgot about the CD for a moment. 

“Then I’m going to sing.” She said confidently. It may have been  _ false  _ confidence, but only time would tell. 

“Sounds good.” He shrugged.

She only really knew the words to  _ Eleanor Rigby _ , but Sven joined in howling from the back seat to make up the difference. She’d relegated herself to only singing when she could guess the lyrics, mostly just chiming in to sing the last word of each line when she noticed it. She had to be really quiet at first, but by the time they hit  _ Yellow Submarine _ Kristoff sang loud enough to be heard in a practiced duet to Sven’s yowling accompaniment.. 

He sounded  _ good. _

“We all live in a yellow submarine. Yellow submarine.  And our friends are all aboard.” He throws his arm over the seat to give Sven a good rub, who gave a good bark. “Many more of them live next door. And the band begins to play.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. 

Anna debated her next move. Hans would have hated it. Elsa would have rolled her eyes. But Kristoff?

Anna turned in her seat, loosening her seat belt so she could face him. He paused his singing and retreated back into himself. Anna had no choice really. She couldn’t let him feel embarrassed, she turned up the music, and started playing the air guitar tentatively. 

Kristoff blushed bright red and looked away and for a moment she thought she’d made the wrong decision. But when he looked back, he was smiling, open and bright. 

They played along to the music like they were in concert, Anna even picking up enough of the chorus to sing along too. 

She was laughing when the song faded out. 

Things feel lighter after that. Conversation came easier. 

“What?! No. Cool Ranch is the best. It’s not worth eating a Dorito if it isn’t Cool Ranch.” Anna sat with her feet tucked under her, body turned completely to face Kristoff so she could direct at him the entirety of her fervor She hadn’t lasted long before she’d slung her seatbelt strap over her shoulder about an hour into the drive. She was free to move freely to emphasize her point now.

“Excuse me? Nacho cheese is their most iconic flavor.” He threw back at her and Sven barked in agreement. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s the best. Besides, Lay’s are way better than Doritos anyway.” She brushed him off with a wave of her hand. 

“Name one reason.” Kristoff wasn’t going to be deterred so easily. 

“Uh, potatoes.” Duh. If you created a national poll of whether people preferred corn or potatoes. They would say potatoes. They would be right.

“The base of the chip is irrelevant!” Kristoff threw up his arms in exasperation before returning them quickly to the wheel. Good thing too because they passed a cop a moment later. 

“Tell that to fritos, all they are is corn.” Anna said after the cop was safely out of view.

“Nu-uh. You can buy chili flavor.” Kristoff lifted his nose in the air proudly. 

“Ew. No thank you. Besides Lay’s has what a whole  _ aisle  _ of flavors and Doritos has what a foot of marketplace real estate?” She was very proud of this argument actually. She was bringing up marketing and everything. 

Though if she was going to talk about marketing, she would have to concede that Doritos made better commercials.

“Size doesn’t matter.” Kristoff scoffed. This gave Anna pause.

“Oh?” Size wasn’t something Kristoff had to worry about, compensate for, or hide. He wasn’t exactly a good ambassador for the little guy in any way, shape, or form.

“I mean, it does-” The grin dawned slowly on her face. 

“But it’s what you do with it?” Kristoff’s smile ticked the corners of his mouth when she spoke. 

“Ya.” Anna rolled her eyes. If he though making innuendos would get him out of the corner she’d backed him into, he was wrong. 

“But Doritos isn’t doing anything with it! All their flavors taste the same.” Blindfold a man and feed him Doritos and pretty soon he’d say they all just tasted like the state of Florida. 

“If they all tasted the same then we wouldn’t be debating the merits of Cool Ranch versus Nacho Cheese.” Kristoff tried to catch her in a trap of her own making.

“But think about it, wouldn’t you rather have Lay’s? Sour cream and onion. Cheddar cheese. Mesquite Barbeque. Salt and Vinegar. I bet you couldn’t name me four flavors of Doritos right now.” To think this all started over a simple question of what snacks they should get at the gas station. 

To think this was the same man who claimed, ‘not to be a talker.’

“Cool Ranch. Nacho Cheese. Salsa Verde. Spicy Sweet Chili.” Kristoff listed off, his fingers held up to her face.

“Ya, can you name me one more?” She was pretty sure the only other flavors they had are just spicy versions of the originals. Hell, they probably had a Spicy-Spicy Sweet Chili.

“Spicy….nacho?” Kristoff tried.

“Exactly! They are all the same, I win!” Kristoff slumped in defeat.

“Fine. We can get Lay’s when we stop for gas.” Anna smile grew to epic proportions.

“And gummy bears?” She reached.

“And gummy bears.” He gave in.

It was another two hours before they stopped for gas. It was a dusty little mom and pop store on the edge of the city. Anna made sure that everything was in date before they checked out. Kristoff finished paying the man at the counter, Anna had contributed in the form of cash and a handful of change of course, while she carried out their bags to the car. 

Kristoff ran out to catch up. It took her a moment to realize he was holding out a hand. They’d never done this before. She didn’t know that it was something he  _ wanted _ . She wondered how long she could have been holding his hand in the car, arm across the center console, maybe even resting on the top of his thigh. She imagined it would be nice. She switched the groceries to one hand to free up the other, taking the last step to close the distance between them. It  _ was _ nice.

“That’s not what I meant-okay.” Kristoff looked startled and she knew instantly that she’d made a mistake. Anna counted the steps until the truck so she knew how long until her embarrassment would end, at least for the time being. It was making her hand sweat. Kristoff followed her around to open up her door and even those last few steps threatened to make her implode. 

“Alright buddy. I hear ya. You want to walk around a bit?” She froze, halfway between setting down the groceries and getting in the car. It took her a minute to realize he was talking to  _ Sven _ . 

Still, he didn’t let go of her hand as he took Sven’s leash. They walked around the dirt parking lot, gently coaxing Sven away from the scent trails that led to the surrounding desert. 

They had another few hours of driving today, and then a couple of hours in the morning before they’d get to the address of the warehouse the call came from. Anna hadn’t worried about the long drive until now. She left behind everything she’s ever known. In her new life and in her old. She knew as they drove North down the I-5 that somewhere to the East was her parent’s Holmby Hills mansion, with a new family inside, or millionaire bachelor, or maybe it still sat vacant. 

It didn’t feel like she was making a mistake when Kristoff held her hand in his. It didn’t feel dangerous, as he bent down with a doggie bag to clean up dog poop. It didn’t feel irresponsible when he pulled hand sanitizer from the glove box and put a squeeze in both their cupped hands. 

She never felt afraid, not with him, and certainly not of him. Even as the sky grew darker. Not even when Kristoff reached over for a handful of trail mix only to find, “Did you eat all the M&M’s? Wait a second...is this only  _ raisins _ ?” He threw a few poorly aimed raisins at her before popping the rest in his mouth. It was easy to be with him. 

She woke up to Kristoff nudging her awake in a Taco Bell drive thu. 

“What do you want?” He whispered into the sleepy, late night, quiet. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and unbuckled her seat belt to get closer to the menu. Kristoff leaned back in his seat to make room for her. 

“Can I have two potato grillers...and a....and come cinnamon twists?” She asked him

“Will that be all for you?” The disembodied voice blared through the speakers. She crashed into Kristoff and honked the horn as she retreated. Kristoff brought a hand over to hold hers automatically. 

“Yes.” He called into the night. 

“Alright! So I’ve got two quesaritos and a Doritos locos taco, chips and nacho cheese sauce, two potato grillers, an order of cinnamon twists. That’ll be $13.25 at the window.”

“Wait! And a Baja Blast Freeze!”

The guy looked irritated when they pulled through to the window. Anna felt a little bit guilty, but Kristoff kept coming back to hold her hand again and again. After he hands over his card. After he puts the warm, brown, bag of food on the center console. After her passed her her drink. 

He parked in the nearly deserted parking lot under a street light. He pulled out his burrito with his left hand and carefully pulled back the paper so his other never had to leave hers. 

He tore open his hot sauce with his teeth and Anna watched on in morbid fascination as he used four hot packets on one burrito. He ate quickly, eager to get back on the road. She took a bit longer to finish off her food. Even with the caffeine in her drink, which she was only able to drink half of so Kristoff offered to finish it, she fell back asleep before they made it to their destination, a motel. 

Kristoff left the car idling while he went inside the little office, coming back with a room key. 

“This is the only place that allows pets.”

“This is fine.” She doesn’t tell him she’s slept in worse. She’d lived in a place like this for six months. 

Kristoff brought up all their stuff. She thought maybe this was payback for earlier, even if she hadn’t meant to slight his offer. Anna held Sven’s leash and tried not to get dragged behind him. Kristoff had made it look a lot easier than it actually was. 

After he dropped their bags off on the dresser slash tv stand which was home to a 18 inch thick, ancient TV, he set out a bowl of food and water for Sven. 

He took him out for a quick walk before the hyperactive animal could cause any trouble. He slipped a silver dagger in his belt before he left the room with their roomkey. 

Anna sat alone, on the stiff mattress, waiting for him to get back. She’d almost convinced herself he wouldn’t, by the time he clicked open the lock. 

It felt just like before only now she knew acutely how pitiful this existence was. The odd yellow tint of the lightbulbs and the thrum of the air con unit a familiar soundtrack to the movie she played a starring role. 

She could feel the walls pressing in on her. Funny how the room had felt bigger when  _ Kristoff  _ in it. 

Even when he returned with the nearly two hundred pound dog, everything still felt bigger. 

He’d just taken off Sven’s leash so he could run forward to have his dinner when Anna said it. 

“Are we going to fuck again?” The question seemed to catch him unawares. It wasn’t like sex hadn’t caught them both by surprise before, anyhow. It always did, with them. 

“Do you want to have sex?” He asked as he straightened, placing the carefully coiled leash next to his bag. 

“Yes.” She didn’t want to spend her night in this place and not make it different than all the times before. That and she’d been thinking about the feel of their skin together, since he’d grabbed her hand in the gas station parking lot. 

“Alright. We can have sex.” He shrugged.

“Good.” Anna let go of a tension she hadn’t known she’d been holding in her shoulders.She felt the ache of it. 

“Was there anything in particular you were wanting to do?” This wasn’t how it had gone before. He’d just, well, done it. 

“No. Just plain ol’ sex is fine.” She hadn’t really thought beyond the touching bit. 

“Plain ol’ sex huh?” He seemed skeptical, but just this side of it. He was  _ teasing  _ her. “So you didn’t want me to eat you out again?” 

He grinned, the corner of his mouth quirked up more on one side and she caught a glimpse of teeth and tongue as he ran it along his gums. Like he could still taste her there.

“Kristoff!” She blushed even as she enjoyed it. Even though being the sole recipient of his attention stirred a warmth in her belly.

“Because it sounds like you might want me to-” His voice was lower than it had been before and his eyebrows are doing a  _ thing _ . She cut him off before he could get too carried away.

“I just meant, you know, the regular kind.” She honestly thought she might fall asleep if he tried to go down on her. She could make it through a quickie, provided he didn’t get carried away.

“Regular kind? Princess you’re going to have to fill me in. I’m not sure what the regular kind is.” He lost some of his bravado. She can see through his performance that he too is exhausted. There are dark bags under his eyes, which droop faintly at the corners. 

“Nevermind! Forget I said anything.” It was more trouble that it was worth, just to get to the part where they were both naked and brushing against each other in sleep. 

“No, wait. I’m sorry.” Kristoff took a step closer and it had Anna rolling her eyes. 

“You just don’t want to miss out on sex.” Kristoff did chuckle then.

“Not particularly no.” In a way he’s calling her bluff because she doesn’t either.

“Can we just, kiss first?” They shared passionate, lust filled kisses before. But never just that. It presented an intimacy that was greater to her than his mouth on her in other places. She craved it. 

Her lips had always been particularly sensitive. Sometimes the slick slide of a sloppy kiss during orgasm, or a couple of fingers in her mouth during her more adventurous escapades, was enough to turn her pleasure into a finely tipped arrow true to its mark. 

She wanted the lush feel of Kristoff’s lips against hers, the claim of his attention for a moment more. 

“You know we don’t have to have sex for me to kiss you.” He closed the last of the distance between them to brush her hair behind her ear.

“I want the rest of it, too.” Anna protested. It wasn’t a lie. She just very much doubted either of them would make it to that point. 

He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, caressing the underside of her ear as he went, sending a shiver through her body. She tilted her head, at the prompting of his hand, and he brought himself down to meet her. 

The first stroke of his mouth was like a drop of water on her parched lips. Soon she clung to him, joining in a dance she was learning to follow. He tasted a bit like the roadtrip snacks they’d been munching on in the car, but she didn’t care. 

They end up on the bed, Anna on her back, with him halfway over her, trying to keep the bulk of his weight off to the side. She felt drunk, as if with every pass of his lips he offered her a sip of sweet wine. His lips were red with it. Perhaps he was the answer to her sins. Her communion. She could drink from his lips and be forgiven for the sins she committed. 

In his arms she only ever felt clean. Untouched by the past. The world shrunk a little for them, whether to the size of his bedroom, or his kitchen, or the cab of his truck, or a dingy, old, motel room off the highway. The world bent to his will. 

She bent too. Kissing Kristoff without the pressing need for him to be inside her, without urgency, was transcendent. Which may have been an exaggeration, but everytime he brought his lips back to hers, she returned to the same thought.  _ Glorious. _

The drag of his teeth.  _ Glorious _ . The stroke of his tongue.  _ Glorious.  _ The feel of his blunt nails against her scalp.  _ Sublime _ .

She was desperate for him by the time he pulled back to look at her, to take in her flushed face and dazed eyes. Her eyelids felt heavy, as did her arms, like she was swimming in syrup. He made the whole world go sweet with it. 

“Are we going to-” He kissed the question from her lips.

“Anna you’re falling asleep. I think you should go to bed.” She wanted to protest, but the whole world felt slightly underwater and so she agreed with a slow nod.

He got up off the bed and she missed him immediately. She forgot how much warmth he carried with him. Some of the sleepy feeling left, replaced by a sadness she couldn’t name. 

He leaned down to give her one last, lingering kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. He still hadn’t come out by the time sleep found her. 

Anna dreamed of Elsa. She dreamed Elsa fell under the ice and she tried to save her but they both drowned. She woke up gasping. 

“You okay?” Kristoff’s voice was gravelly with sleep.

“No.” She sobbed. When had she started crying?

“Hey, come here.” She could feel a concerned Sven nose at the hand that hung over the edge of the bed, it’s wet and cold, a reminder of her dream fate. She scooted over into Kristoff’s outstretched arms. He didn’t hesitate to pull her into him, his arms wrapping around her in a protective shield 

“Did you have a bad dream?” It was obvious she had, but something about the question itself is calming. It was just a dream. When she awoke she could leave behind all the bad. Or most of it.

“Yes.”She croaked out around renewed tears.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She could only shake her head vehemently, pressing her tears into his shirt. 

His hand ran up and down her spine, tracing each bone under his fingertips as he waited for her to calm down. 

When sleep claimed her, she dreamt of Kristoff with a rope, pulling her from the water into his arms. She felt only warmth. 


	11. Brief Interlude

Anna woke early. Without the growing familiarity of the four walls of Kristoff’s house she couldn’t quite get relaxed enough to fall into a deep sleep. At least not until Kristoff’s arms had come to act as those four walls for her. 

She still wore her clothes from the previous day and the button of her pants dug into her stomach uncomfortably. She debated the merits of shucking them off when she would just have to get up and put them back on soon enough. 

Her discomfort won over and she wiggled free. Kristoff’s arm around her waist tightened reflexively as she did so. She didn’t realize the connotation of her actions until, in her underwear, her bum pressed against the morning hardness of his cock. 

“Anna-” He whispered in a warning tone. 

She ignored him and gave a more deliberate grind back against him. It slides against her cheek, through the cotton. 

“You took care of it last night. Didn’t you?” She dared him. 

“Yes.” She ground back again, this time his dick slotted between her cheeks. He groaned into her ear and she felt her own sleep-tempered arousal stoke back to life. 

“You stroked your cock thinking about me, huh?” She didn’t even have a chance to slide against him this time before he bucked up against her. 

“Yes.” He panted. It made Anna smile. 

They were both still hovering around the edges of sleep, limbs heavy, and blurry eyed. Everything felt more sensual there, driven by the simple desire to feel so very good. 

“What did you think about doing?” She whispered, the grind starting to affect her. 

“ _ This. _ ” He breathed into her hair. 

Anna wanted to feel more. Kristoff had never denied this part of himself from the start, so why should she hesitate to partake? She pulled herself from his arms, just enough to pull off her shirt, which Kristoff helps with, unclipping her bra at the same time. 

When she returned to her place in his arms he brought his hand up to cover one breast. His hands were too large to cup her breasts, and if he wished to do so he had to be delicate-deliberate. It was the first time Anna didn’t mind having small breasts during sex. Then again, he was the first man not to care. 

“Do you want me now?” Anna whispered, her lips catching against her pillow. 

“Anna-” He begged. She doesn’t want to rush, doesn’t want to give this up quite yet, even or something more pleasurable. 

“Tell me when you want me.” She had to know if he thought of her as much as she thought of him. Her engine didn’t go from zero to sixty as easily as some, but she couldn’t deny the knowledge that he was right there and willing, had her at a constant thirty . 

“Always. All the time, Anna.” His answer made her ache.

Men tended to forget that women needed  _ more  _ when it came to sex. If a woman came to him primed and ready, it didn’t happen by chance. It meant she’d been thinking about it, priming her mind, and warming her body, for him. If sex were a light switch with turned on and turned off as the controls, Anna had a series of buttons and switches, most of which she knew quite intimately. 

Kristoff managed to find new combinations she had yet to discover. She hadn’t realized it was the same for him. She wanted to push those buttons.

His hand made its way between her legs over the cotton of her underwear to swirl circles against the damp patch there. She opened herself more to his hands, but he urged her thighs closed to clamp around the hand that worked her deliciously. 

When her pleasure ratched up, her body rose in temperature, and her skin flushed, she tried to push back against him. His hand, his cock, anything. His other hand, with his strong bicep resting underneath her head, came to rest her head back against him. 

She felt fuzzy with promise of coming and she heeded his prompting with no resistance. She could see him from this angle, see his eyes, tired but hungry. He wanted her, if his words hadn’t been enough to tell her so, to the way he carried his jaw, the flare of his nostrils as his breathes came labored and heavy, the heat in his eyes would have told her so. 

She went over the edge with his hands still on top of her underwear, and his fingers tangled in her hair. She pleaded with him as she came down. 

“Kristoff-Kristoff please. I need both of us-” She needed their bodies so close, skin touching, and sweat mingling. “I need you inside me.” 

She felt him pull away from her back for a moment. She rolled to see what he was doing. He’d gone onto his back to pull off his shirt and boxers, so he lay naked, chest heaving and cock flushed and hard against his abdomen. 

She was struck by something as she watched him, a foriegn emotion that both scared her and excited her. She didn’t have a name for it yet. 

He came back up on his side to invade her space and she trembled with the mystery of how he would take her. He held himself over her for a moment more to strip away her underwear, before nudging her to return to her earlier position 

His naked cock rubbed along her ass now. She could feel his foreskin catch when he dragged the head up and his answering groan into her hair was animalistic.

“Kristoff, please, I want to come again. Let me come with you.” She knew he could take care of her so well, would take care of her  _ so well _ . 

His groan became a long, drawn out ‘yes’ that rumbled through his chest. She wanted to turn and see him, to watch his face as he sunk inside her, but he held her so close, she couldn’t move. 

He moved one powerful thigh between her own which she rode gratefully until he pulled her legs apart, hiking one back and over his hips. It put her flexibility to its limits, but he held a firm hand there as he finished getting into place and positioned himself. With his hands otherwise occupied Anna guided him inside. As soon as the head slipped past her entrance, his hips plunged forward. 

Anna cried out, arching against him, but he held her secure, even as he took her apart. It was lazy and unhurried, the way he took her over and over again, teasing her with the friction of his cock. 

It was the best way to wake up and she wondered if he’d allow them just a few more hours of sleep afterward, maybe a repeat. 

His hand left her leg to caress up her body until it held her tightly to him. His elbow rested against her ribs, his strong, chorded forearm pressed between her breasts, and his palm spread out above the swell of it, fingers grasping her shoulder. 

She reached her own hand down and teased the place she knew would take her to orgasm with him. 

As he brought her ever closer she sucked in little breathes, expanding her lungs, pushing her chest up into his hand. And when she came, it left her on the wings of a sigh. The lack of breath made her orgams a little fuzzy around the edges, delicious and soft. 

Kristoff followed her, almost pushing her down into the bed as he gave several incredibly powerful, meaningful thrusts of his hips. He growled her name, but she preferred when he signed it, his forehead resting on her shoulder, still trapped by him. 

He pulled out while they both caught their breath and Anna rolled over letting herself drift back towards sleep. 

“Hey now, don’t fall asleep, we gotta get a move on it.” She groaned with her eyes closed and lifted a hand just high enough over the crumpled sheets to give him the middle finger. 

A warning hand came down on her backside, just hard enough to jolt her awake. 

“Hey!” She was awake now, up on her elbows to glare down at him. 

“You shower first. If I leave you here you’re going to fall asleep again.” He smiled while he said it and she wanted to kiss those teasing lips.

“We could shower together.” She suggested with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Anna that shower is the size of a postage stamp.” She’d spent the whole morning trapped against him and she hadn’t minded one bit. 

“And so am I, so we’ll both fit.” She could see him waver under her gentle, or not so gentle, persuasion.

“Anna...get in the shower.” She groaned into the pillow before getting up and heading to the bathroom door. She found herself face to face with Sven on her way, who had slept, as usual, on the floor at the base of the bed. She rushed to cover her important bits with her hands before running to the bathroom with renewed sense of urgency, Kristoff’s hearty chuckle following her through the door.

She just finished shaving her under her arms when she heard the click of the door knob. Followed by Kristoff sneaking into the tub behind her. It pushed her out of the spray a bit, but his hand reached up to adjust the shower head. 

She hadn’t imagined it would feel like this when she’d suggested it. For all they’d seen of each other she still felt as if he was seeing her for the first time. She was almost done showering, something he’d probably waited for, letting them just overlap. 

“You’re a little late to wash my back.” She joked.

“I’ll have to find another way to make myself useful.” He said around a grin. Maybe it was the same one he’d had since she left him on the bed. Maybe she’d made him smile all that time. 

‘Making himself useful’ turned out to be giving her a few waterlogged kisses before kicking her out. They were long gone before their eleven o’clock check out time. They took fifteen minutes to take Sven, who Anna still couldn’t look in the eyes, on a walk. 

They only had an hour or two to drive today. Anna spent the first half after they grabbed their breakfast, shitty breakfast sandwiches and equally shitty coffee, thinking about leaning over, unzipping Kristoff’s fly and taking him in her mouth. 

She spent the second half under the crushing weight of what was to come. 


	12. Gun It

The atmosphere in the vehicle only grew darker as they pulled into the derelict warehouse district. It didn’t matter that Anna had never been this far north before, the crumbling walls and rusted beams were familiar. Anna couldn’t count the number of reports she’d followed to similar places. A feeling of tension just as recognizable descended upon them. Even Sven seemed on edge. 

Anna pulled her gear out of her bag, unbuckling her seat belt to strap on her gun belt with it’s holster and sheath. Kristoff had her get his out and lay it on the center console so it would be ready when they stopped. 

“When we get there, I want you going in first. I’ll bring up the rear with Sven.” She nodded, she was used to doing these things alone, so it didn’t matter much to her where she was in the lineup. 

“Alright.” She wasn’t sure what to expect, what he thought they might encounter, but in a place like this it was better safe than sorry. 

“Do you think we’ll find anything?” She didn’t dare let herself get hopeful, but maybe if Kristoff thought they would...

“To do with Elsa?” He gave her a skeptical glance before looking back at the road. “I don’t know, but odds are we’ll be disturbing someone.” 

“Something.” Anna corrected.

“What?” Kristoff’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Something, you said ‘someone’.” Anna insisted. 

“No, I didn’t make a mistake.” Kristoff’s expression changed from one of confusion to cold anger, his eyebrows still casting hard shadows over his face.

He pulled the truck up to the curb and cut the engine. In front of them is a brick building, covered in layers of peeling plaster. She pieced together the signage that had once vibrantly painted the side.  _ Singer Sewing Machine and Vacuum Repair.  _

Kristoff strapped his shoulder holster into place and with it his demeanor altered. It was as if he strapped a mask into place as well. 

“Let’s go.” He climbed out as he said it, not bothering to conceal the slam of his door. 

Anna had no tactical experience, so when it came to casing the place, she was utterly lost. She took the direct route of kicking open the door and going in ready to pick a fight. Unfortunately, this particular door was stuck tight. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Kristoff stood, arms crossed, watching her.

“Going in, what does it look like?” She gestured to the stubborn door. 

“Anna, that’s not-” She launched herself at it this time, shoulder first, like a footballer. Kristoff caught her before she could fall to the ground on the rebound. 

“If I can just-” She tried to move forward to try again, with a different technique, but Kristoff held her back. 

“The truck bay is open.” He pointed around the corner where the ribbed, commercial door had been rolled up to leave a massive gap in the wall. 

“Perfect!” She charged forward with more caution this time, in part due to now having a gun in her hands. Sven panted alongside her. Having him there made it feel more like his daily walk than a raid. 

They stepped into the large open room alert, scanning for hiding places and potential ambush points, except for a few long tables and overturned chairs, the place was empty. There were stairs to the left. She followed the perimeter of the entire room to ensure it was clear before going up. Kristoff’s heavier steps echoed behind her and she had to strain all the harder to hear any foriegn sounds. 

They made it to the top uneventfully, barring Anna’s slight overreaction when one of the boards creaked. The upstairs had several small offices. There was an old Macintosh in one, with the tower knocked over, and paperwork strewn everywhere from the nearby filing cabinet. 

There was a bathroom too. Anna smelled it before she saw it. She wanted to leave it, pass over that room, but Kristoff pressed her from behind and she went inside. They carefully checked the two stalls. Anna would have preferred to kick the two doors in karate-style and get the fuck out. Instead they are as meticulous as in the other spaces. 

“Kristoff this place is disgusting, there’s obviously nothing here. Let’s move on.” She begged. He stopped his search and relented. 

“You know, squatters have no choice but to use places like this. It’s not like they want the place to be this filthy.” 

“I know that. I just don’t want to spend any more time here than necessary. Let’s go back and check out the computer. It’s a promising place to start.”

Kristoff took one last look around and followed her. He didn’t come to the room with her, instead he stood near the top of the stairs, with single-minded purpose.

Anna looked around at the yellowing papers and ancient computer and felt a little overwhelmed. She started by looking to see if any of the papers looked recent. They didn’t. 

Then she moved to the computer, which no matter what she did, wouldn’t start. She took a closer look at the tower. She lifted it back up off it’s side to find that the side had been torn off and anything of value had been stripped. 

“Fuck!” She pushed the useless computer back over and turned her attention instead to the files. She began looking them over one by one, sorting them into piles of read and unread. It was taking too long and there was still a whole cabinet in the corner. 

“Anna, you’re gonna have to hurry it up in there.” Kristoff called. Sven started to give an uneasy whine from the hallway. 

This couldn't be it. This couldn’t be where the trail ended. They’d just found her and now Anna was losing her all over again. 

“I just need one more minute.” She opened every drawer of the metal desk, the file cabinet, nothing was left unturned and untouched. 

“Anna it’s time to go.” Kristoff was at her side now, she didn’t know when he’d gotten there, but he pulled her toward the door by her elbow. 

“We can’t leave yet, there has to be something here we’re not seeing!” Her attempts at resistance were no match for Kristoff as she was practically dragged into the hall. 

Sven came to run anxious circles around them and it gave Anna the distraction she needed to break away. She ran back to the bathroom, searching the mirrors, people always left clues on mirrors in the movies didn’t they? 

Kristoff followed, one step behind. 

“Anna there’s nothing here. You agreed. You’re wasting time.” He kept looking over his shoulder in a way that set Anna on edge. 

“No, Kristoff! She was here. I can feel it.” If she just looked a little bit harder, if she’d known Elsa a little bit better, she would be able to find something. 

“Anna no one-no one  _ alive  _ has been here for years. Everything’s covered in a layer of dust and shit.” Anna wanted to argue, maybe something was written in the dust, they would have to check every surface. 

There was a sound, somewhere outside the cracked and jagged window, like a horrible scratching. 

“Anna this is a ghoul lair. This is-this is where it takes its food.” He gave a pile of indistinguishable character and rank smell a look of disgust. 

Anna could feel the panic clawing at her throat. She wanted to hold him at gunpoint until he let her scour the place, wanted to hold  _ someone  _ responsible for her grief. It scared her, how much she wanted retribution. 

“Kristoff-” She implored. 

He remained unmoved. She looked to the squalor one last time. Was  _ this _ where she would bury the memory of Elsa one last time?

“Alright, let’s go.” She turned from the foul den and they walked together down the stairs and to the truck, watching their backs the entire way. 

They sat in silence in the cab for several long minutes. For all his pragmatism, she knew Kristoff had wanted answers as badly as she. This wasn’t a win for anybody. 

“That isn’t how I wanted this to...end.” Anna whispered to her reflection in the window.

Would this be an end to their tentative partnership as well? Why did that leave a bigger hole in Anna than closing an entire chapter of her life? 

Kristoff slammed his palms into the steering wheel, head hanging between his shoulders, not bothering to respond. She watched him, watched the way his breaths came ragged, the way his hands turned to fists so tight his knuckles turned white. 

“You got a EVP reader?” It wasn’t the response Anna was expecting.

“A what?” She scrunched her face up in confusion. Elsa used to call it her pug face. The thought brought with it a new wave of pain.

“A spirit box.” She knew that name. She’d seen them before, the guild had some, but she’d never had occasion to use one.

“No…” She contemplated lying, but there wasn’t really a point. “I couldn’t afford one and I’ve gotten by alright without one so far.” 

“Well shit.” He continued to look straight out the windshield like the answer to their problem might materialize on the breeze. That or he was trying to figure out a way to break it to her easy that they were at the end of the road. 

“It’s okay. I know there’s nothing here. At least we tried.” Anna comforted him. 

He nodded, like he knew this, but the set of his jaw and firm line of his mouth told a different story. The truck roared to life, Anna’s seat rumbled beneath her, and the radio became a faded soundtrack to their disappointment.

“Well, where to now?” Anna employed her best false cheer. 

“-South-” The radio cut out to make a harsh conglomeration of sounds that almost seemed to  _ answer _ her. 

“What the hell?” She looked to Kristoff but he was already scrambling for a piece of paper and pen. 

“ 3-3-3-3” Mens’ and womens’ voices blended together to list a series of numbers. Anna couldn’t tell if they-whoever they were- were trying to tell them the number three was significant or if the number three four times meant something. 

“Are you-are you getting this?” Anna tore her eyes from the scanning dials to Kristoff, who ignored her completely in favor of writing furiously. 

“Shh!” A hand came up to silence her, pen laced between his fingers. 

“ -Fern-” Old American folk filtered through the speakers. 

“-wood-” The familiar sound of Taylor Swift cut off early.

“-Circle-” Aggressive rap with a pounding bass thumped so loudly Anna’s head knocked into the window with the force of her recoil. 

Kristoff remained unfazed by the jarring changes in rhythm and tune. Was this what he’d been listening to at his kitchen table for months? How could he stand it? She’d thought this had been what she wanted, but in the face of it, she’s vaguely horrified. 

“-Lay-ton-” He was scribbling too much for what was coming through the radio. She wanted to know what he was writing--wanted to know what he was thinking. 

“You-” Whitney Houston’s soulful voice rang through the cab, sending Sven howling. 

“Ta-” The radio spat out one last syllable before descending into flat static. 

Anna sat on the edge of her seat, waiting for something, waiting for  _ more _ . This had been her one chance to find a connection to Elsa and she’d squandered it. 

“Is that it? How did it happen before?” Part of her wanted to reach out and touch the dials, but the silence felt too fragile. Besides, she didn’t want to move the dials, she wanted them to move  _ by themselves. _

“Talk-to-you-soon...A-nn-a.” The dial moved, just out of reach of her fingertips. 

“What did you say?” She leaned forward, like she could talk to the radio and get an answer, like she could talk through it, a twisted version of karaoke.

“Say something!” She yelled.

“Don’t leave!” Her hand smarted from where she smacked the dashboard above the stereo. 

“Anna we need to get out of here.” Kristoff’s eyes were on something in the distance, something that moved closer. 

“No, Kristoff. She’s-it’s her! We have to wait for her to come back.” She fumbled with the radio, reaching for his arm on the steering wheel, anything to try and roll back time. 

“No, Anna, we need to get out of here.” He shook her off. He’s still the other version of himself, Kristoff-with-a-gun, and his word is final.

“We’ve got what we came for.” He flicked off the radio and gunned it out of there. 


	13. Show of Trust

Kristoff drove until they found a diner. She didn’t know if he was trying to tell her something (that it was past lunch and she was starting to get grumpy) or if he, like her, needed a place to regroup. Whatever the reason, he got Sven a bone to gnaw on and put him in the back of the truck before heading inside. 

He threw on his leather jacket over his gun first, that explained why he’d been wearing a leather jacket in late August in L.A. when they’d first met. Anna opted to take hers off, stuffing it into her backpack and slinging the whole thing over her shoulder. 

It was a seat yourself joint and Kristoff chose a booth by the window, right in front of his truck where he had a clear view of it and Sven. They didn’t have to wait long before the waiter came up to take their order. 

“Hi! My name’s Olaf! Welcome to Oaken’s what can I get for you this fine day!” Kristoff’s lip curled in disdain in response to his cheer and Anna stepped in gracefully.

“Nice to meet you Olaf. How about starting us off with some coffee?” She looked between the over eager teen and Kristoff, who didn’t seem to care what she ordered. 

“Coming right up! Will that be dark, medium, or light roast?” He clicked his pen so enthusiastically Anna was surprised the thing didn’t go shooting out of his hand.

“Uh-dark is fine.” She didn’t think Kristoff would care and she doubted she’d notice the difference. He could bring her a mug of Tabasco and she wouldn’t know the difference right now.

“And would you like decaf or regular?” Kristoff seemed ready to tell him to  _ fuck off  _ so Anna hurried to respond.

“Regular please, Olaf.” Anna tapped her fingertips against the edge of the table.

“You still remember my name! Well aren’t you a sweetie. I’m gonna keep you!” Anna forced a smile and it must have worked because he left to get their drinks. 

She turned to face Kristoff fully then. He was tense, like every muscle in his body was being pulled tight by an imaginary puppeteer with strings. 

Left to her own thoughts Anna’s mind worked a mile a minute like a high speed train. Unfortunately, she was still on the platform. 

Kristoff on the other hand, knew how to map things out, to plan, and keep them ten steps ahead instead of one. 

He probably had ten different theories right now and a plan for every one of them. Anna had one thing on her mind.  _ Talk to you soon, Anna _ . Any plan that would make that possible, she would follow.

“So what do we do next?” She couldn’t wait any longer for him to speak. 

Kristoff’s sigh filled the space between them. He tossed the notebook she’s now accustomed to onto the table between them but made no move to open it. 

“Food first, then we figure out what we’re gonna do.” Anna lacked his patience, but if there was one thing that could motivate Anna it was food. 

This meant the return of Olaf, who came bearing mugs, a hot pot of coffee, and an overzealous smile. 

“Have you folks had a chance to look at the menu? I highly recommend the Cuban sandwich.” He held his pad and pen out expectantly. 

“Ya that sounds fine. We’ll take one of those and a club please.” Anna accepted her fate as official liaison to the masses when it came to Kristoff. He’d better like cuban sandwiches.

“Great! Do you want to upgrade that to a meal deal for only $1.99 extra?” Olaf seemed tickled pink she’d taken his suggestion, tickled enough to make another.

“No.” Kristoff interjected. 

“It saves you .75 cents when you order a side. We have potato, macaroni, or pasta salad or fries.” Closing her eyes for a second longer than necessary on her next blink, she gave herself a brief reprieve from Olaf’s sales pitch and prepared herself to answer. 

“This’ll be fine, Olaf. Thank you.” She lifted her coffee mug to her lips and tried not to grimace at the bitter taste.

“Alrighty then! Be back in two shakes!” Kristoff cringed at the reminder that he would be back. 

Anna let out an audible sigh of relief when he disappeared into the kitchen again, his giggle going with him. She dug around in her wallet for a five and some change to leave on the table. Maybe if he saw they were already planning to tip him, he’d relax some. 

When she turned back to Kristoff he was already looking her over critically. He expected her to lose her cool like before, she could tell. Hell, even she did. It motivated her more to keep it together. 

“So we can both agree that it’s Elsa now, right?” She leaned over the table on her elbows, still feeling the need to whisper despite having relative privacy.

“No.” Kristoff began adding packets of sugar and a hefty dump of creamer into his mug, before bringing it to his lips, obstructing her view of his face. 

“Seriously? After all of that? Who else could it possibly be?” What would be enough for him? Would it ever be her?

“Anna when someone or something contacts you from the spirit world and knows your name, that’s not always a good sign.” Just because the message came over EVP, didn’t mean it came from a spirit...did it? She started to doubt the feeling burning in her gut. 

“It’s not from the spirit world though.” It took a lot of confidence to face down the mountain of a man, who possessed quite a lot of confidence himself. 

“And how do you know that?” He challenged. 

“Because I would feel it. I would feel it if she were dead.” She met his gaze head on.

“Anna-” He broke first, staring out the window at his truck, unable to meet the intensity of her gaze.

“Just trust me on this one.” It was a last resort. 

He didn’t outwardly respond to her pleading, but she could see him warring with himself inside. He just needed another nudge in the right direction. 

“I need you to trust me.” She reached a hand out across the table on instinct, for a moment she thought he might leave it there, but he reached out and shook it. 

“We need to add this to the map.” Kristoff relented. The contents of his notebook were dumped onto the slightly sticky table. 

“We’re going to need a bigger map.” She stole his mug as she said it, not bothering to doctor her own. The realization dawned on Anna when the whole thing was unfolded. 

Kristoff grunted, already mapping out where they would go next, or where  _ Elsa  _ wanted them to go. The new line ran from Yuba City to somewhere outside Layton, Utah. 

Anna input the address into her phone. It was almost a straight shot on the I-80 E. Kristoff reached out to steal his-nearly empty-mug back. 

“It’s 665 miles away. That’s a ten hour drive. Why would she take us so far now?” It didn’t make any sense. None of the sites had been outside of California. Now this? 

“Because we’re listening.” He set the now empty mug on the table with more force than necessary.

“Wow! What have you got there?” The voice was more jarring than Kristoff’s dramatics.

Olaf had appeared with their food. He seemed unbothered by their lack of answer. Kristoff swept an arm across the table, shoving their notes to the side to make room for their plates. 

“Not everyday we get people here for the ley line!” He was just making small talk, but it stopped Anna cold. 

“The what?” Sometimes it felt like no matter how long she’d been at this, she’d never learn all there was to know. 

“The ley line! It runs straight through Sutter County.” The strange look he gave her only confused her more. 

Anna turned to Kristoff, but he was pulling the map back out, tenting it over their sandwiches, grease seeping through the paper. 

“Where? Show me.” Kristoff commanded. 

“Okay, grumpy pants. It’s right there. You’ve already got the line drawn silly.” He pointed to the line they’d just drawn. “And this is one too, they intersect here, which is just one of the things that makes our little town so special!” 

He clapped his hands together enthusiastically, looking between them for validation.

“Thanks, Olaf.” That lot again fell to her, as Kristoff was once again scouring the map.

“We’re also home to the California Swan Festival, Sunsweet Growers, and the 1994 Mosque burning.” The smile on his face didn’t show any of the incongruity of his words. 

“That’s-” She looked to Kristoff for help but he showed no sign of giving any, “great. I think we’ll dig in now. Smells great!” 

“Of course! Tastes great too. Enjoy!” Off he skipped, oblivious to the chaos he was leaving behind him. 

Anna waited until he was out of sight to turn back to Kristoff, nearly clawing his arm off as she reached for it in excitement. 

“We’ve been following ley lines this whole time?” This had to mean something. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!” Kristoff shoved a hand through his hair, staring at the map with new eyes. 

“It’s genius.” The awestruck whisper left his lips. 

“I’m going to tell him that you said that.” Anna said, picking up her sandwich and taking a big bite. 

“Don’t you dare.” He grinned. 

It tasted as good as it looked. 


	14. Chapter 14

The excitement in the vehicle as they drove only added to the electric tension in the air Anna had begun to feel around Kristoff. She didn’t know if it was the energy pulsing from the lay lines they followed, something ancient and almost sinister, or if it had something to do with the new addition in the middle seat of the truck. 

“This is so exciting! I’ve never been on a road trip before. Do we have snacks? We have to have snacks!” Olaf clapped his hands together and Kristoff tried to hid his cringe by looking out the drivers side window. She might have missed it if she’d been able to take her eyes off of him for five minutes. 

He was probably checking on Sven in the back through the rearview mirror. The cab not made to fit quite so many large people and large dogs. When he looked back ahead he rummaged around with one hand to produce a slim jim that he passed to their newfound stray. 

“Ooh, what’s this?” The slim jim had the same effect on Olaf as it would on Sven, it kept him quietly enthralled for several minutes to that she could get her thoughts together. Thoughts that had been decidedly in the wrong direction since they left the dinner. 

Their discovery had put Kristoff in a good mood, as good news tended to do, and when she said a  _ mood,  _ she meant she could usually expect a  _ reward _ . One she’d been craving since....if Olaf hadn’t promptly quit his job when they’d asked him for more answers concerning the lay line and ancient witchcraft in a  _ generous  _ offer to help them that unfortunately they were in no position to pass up. 

“So why not become a monster hunter, if you know so much about this stuff?” Anna volunteered when the silence became too wide, too gaping. 

“Fight monsters? What for?” The question baffled Anna. 

“To protect people?” Olaf snorted at her meager answer, which hadn’t felt so very meager before he scoffed at it. 

“You’re lucky I’m here.” Olaf said and went back to eating his slim jim with gusto. 

Kristoff’s hands tightened on the wheel at that, in a gesture Anna didn’t completely understand. He glanced over to check the mirrors and caught her eye in the process. Maybe, just maybe he was experiencing the same frustration as her. She thought she could see it there. They’d have to find a new way to celebrate. 

In any case, the mood had gone, in a whiff of slim jim. 

  
  


Utah set upon them in array of mountains and mesas, giving way to a great lake rimmed in white. Something about the place, made her shudder, the energy felt earlier in the day electrifying into something dangerous. 

The world was growing dark again, in a fierce way, and Anna longed for the protection of a nice hotel, even though she knew they’d be pulling into a rundown motel and sleeping with their knives under their pillows. Which would be on separate beds? 

Their sleeping situation was the last of their worries now but she felt the change acutely. She’d become to rely on Kristoff’s touch as an anchor and she felt pushed out to sea now more than ever. 

They wouldn’t go to the site tonight, not under the cover of darkness, deep in the woods, under the moon. Too many things lurked under those conditions. So why did she feel like so many things lurked under these as well, as she sat on the end of the bed in the motel room. They’d managed a room with two full size mattresses. As she was not getting into bed with a stranger, that meant she was sleeping--in quite close proximity--to Kristoff. 

The man in question had disappeared into the shower as soon as they’d got there. Olaf had stretched himself out on his own bed and made himself comfortable watching Say Yes To the Dress with a muffin from the vending machine outside Anna didn’t dare explore. 

She absentmindedly watched a bride pick out an ugly custom dress. She’d thought she’d get married once. Thought she would meet the one. If she ever married now she wasn’t sure what kind of celebration she would want. She wasn’t sure who she would celebrate with. 

Anna wanted to leave to go get food, to slake her hunger and boredom, but she was too afraid to drive Kristoff’s truck. He rarely let anyone take a turn driving and when he did he clutched the handle on the door with white knuckles. 

Finally, Kristoff emerged, hair still wet and dripping onto his face, from his shower. Anna popped up like a whack-a-mole, catching him briefly by surprise. 

“Let’s go.” Anna took initiative.

“Where?” Although Kristoff was the dumbfounded one, Anna felt a bit so herself. He didn’t jump to get away with her the way she felt.

“To get food.” She saved, “I’m starving.” 

“Okay.” Kristoff shrugged. 

“We’re going to get food. You want anything?” Kristoff turned to Olaf. 

“Ya, let me grab a few bucks.” Olaf reached for his wallet on the shared side table. 

They walked in silence out to the truck. When the doors had finally clattered shut, Kristoff spoke. 

“So what was that all about?”

“Nothing. We really need dinner.” The roar of the truck came to life and the familiar rumble of it soothed her anxiety. 

“Nothing?” Kristoff stole a glance at her as he reached over to grab her headrest and take a long look out the back before pulling out. 

“Nothing.” Anna vainly tried to convince herself.

They began the drive to the pizza place in silence and walking in together to place their order, which wouldn’t be ready for another twenty minutes. So they went out to the truck to wait in silence. 

“For someone who puts on such a tough exterior, you sure do like picking up strays.” Anna finally broke the silence, the cool night air starting to seep into cab. 

“I don’t pick up strays, they stick to me, like burrs. Or gum on the bottom of your shoe.”

Anna just laughed and Kristoff cracked a hint of a smile too. 

“Thank you. For this, for everything.” Anna said, her tone more serious now. 

“It benefits us both, you know.” Anna dared to believe he might believe he might mean something beyond his mystery. 

And it did, it really did. She felt the cracks, the emptiness inside of herself healing, bit by bit. If some of that emptiness was filled by him in a more literal way, she would accept that too. That part of their relationship was over, for the foreseeable future. 

Her frustration unfortunately was not. Fortunately, it was hard to get in that kind of a mood, with Olaf around, spouting his random “car facts” about god knows what. 

So when they got back to the hotel and got ready for bed for the night, Anna was anything but hot and horny. She was maybe a little hot-headed, but that came with the territory. She was a red head after all. 

“Goodnight Anna. Goodnight Kristoff. Goodnight Sven.” Olaf listed in succession. 

Kristoff didn’t bother with an answer but Anna gave him a polite, if a little short, goodnight. 

She tried to remember that first night with Kristoff, the comfort of having his body next to her, made easier by his current physical presence. The warmth from his body sank into her skin, even without touching. 


End file.
